Coordinates
by Rainie Skyes
Summary: Lady Lillian Fairfax is missing. She has apparently been abducted, but by whom and for what purpose? Sherlock Holmes is on the case. This story is an original mystery based on the characters from the show. While there is some Sherlock/OC, the main element of the plot is the Case. My goal is to keep Sherlock in character as much as possible. Definitely worth the read. I promise.
1. The Abduction of Lady Lillian Fairfax

A/N: Just a heads up, I am in the process of updating chapters. No major changes, just bits here and there with some cleanup of spelling, typos, etc.

If you haven't read this story yet, welcome and where have you been? If you aren't crazy about it by the end of chapter 3, you may leave and no one will think any less of you. But please give it at least a read through that, as it's a slow burner, but I believe you won't regret it.

I would like to mention that Lilly is NOT a Mary Sue...she's a fully developed original character who is sadly nothing like me, except we are both short and think Sherlock is rather adorable.

Also, please note there are clues to the mystery hidden mostly in plain sight throughout the story. ;)

**Chapter One - The Abduction of Lady Lillian Fairfax**

_In which a driver is subdued, the lady is taken and an abductor is pleased._

Shopping was never something that Lilly liked to do. It was a chore that sometimes required doing, but one she avoided whenever possible. The idea of doing it for fun was completely alien to her. But Victoria had asked her to come, so Lilly didn't feel she could say no. In all the years that Lilly and Victoria had been step sisters, they have never really been close. They were so very different, much like their mothers had been. The thought of her mother brought a sad smile to her lips. It had been 10 years since she had died, but you never really get over losing your mum.

"Lady Lilly, why is your lovely face looking so sad?"

Lilly looked up to see that Ron, her usual driver, had pulled the car around and was standing at the rear door, ready to help her in. So lost in her thoughts, she hadn't even heard the car drive up. She shook her head ruefully and smiled widely at him. She had known Ron all her life, he was like an uncle to her, a fact that her stepmother, Lady Constance, deplored. It just wasn't done, she was always telling Lilly, being so familiar with the staff. Oh well, Lilly thought, one more thing about me that was just not correct enough.

"Hi, Ron, sorry, I was just thinking about my mum." Lilly said as she slipped into the back seat. Ron leaned in before he closed the door and gave her a little peck on the cheek.

"Your mother was a lovely woman, Lilly. She would have been so very proud of you."

He said this often to her, and Lilly hoped it was true. She knew that Ron had been very devoted to her mother, but then most of the staff had loved her. Lady Adele had been generous, kind and thoughtful to all. To be half the woman her mum had been would be a difficult goal, but it was one that Lilly wanted to achieve some day.

"So what is this I hear? I am to take you into London town…to go shopping? When Maggie told me to bring the car around and where we were going, I thought perhaps I misheard. Lady Lilly, shopping? Unheard of." Ron looked over his shoulder with a chuckle as they pulled out of the gates.

"I am afraid it is true." Lilly looked out the window at the passing landscape. "Victoria."

"Ah. Trying to make amends, is she? Bit late to do the whole sisterly thing, is it not?"

"Now, Ron, don't start. I know that she is not your favorite person, but the past is the past, and if she wants to try to be friends, I will not be the one to say no. She is my sister after all."

"Step sister ", he grumbled.

Lilly thought about her relationship with Victoria, and how completely opposite they were. In appearance, Victoria was tall, willowy, blond hair, ice blue eyes…basically a goddess; Lilly was petite, a bit too curvy, auburn hair, green eyes. Victoria loved to be the life of the party, enjoying the attention she received from everyone. Lilly was a homebody, preferring quiet evenings with a book. Victoria was a bit wild and wicked. Lilly was a bit shy and proper. Ron's voice brought her mind back from her musings.

"Where are you meeting her?"

"Harrods's, naturally, it is her home away from home."

Ron looked into the rearview mirror at Lilly, shaking his head, thinking, "That girl is too kind by far. The way that both the Lady Constance and that Victoria treat Lilly, it was just shameful. But it is not my place to say, I know, but it can't stop me from worrying about her."

Lilly knew what Ron was thinking even if he didn't say it. He had never really approved of her father marrying so soon after her mother died, and to such a strong-willed person as Lady Constance had turned out to be. But Lilly loved her father, Lord Henry, very much and she wanted him to be happy. If Constance made him happy, then Lilly was happy, for him anyway. Life with Constance as her step mother could be difficult some of the time, and Lilly did wish occasionally that Constance could just accept her as she was and not continually try to make her more like them.

A case in point was just this very morning when she came down after spending nearly an hour debating what to wear for the dreaded shopping. Constance had been rearranging a vase of flowers in the morning room, when Lilly walked by on her way to the front entry.

"Oh, darling, is that what you are planning to wear to town?" She stepped out of the room to get a good look at Lilly. "It's so last year, Lilly dear. Whatever will Victoria say? Well, it appears that this little shopping trip will be helpful. Victoria is sure to take you in hand and get you sorted."

Lilly pasted a smile on her face as she kissed the air by her step mother's cheek and said aloud, "Yes, I'm sure she will." Silently, she repeated an all too familiar thought, sort of like her own personal mantra, "Sorted? I don't want to be sorted. There is nothing wrong with me."

Forcing her mind back to the present, she let a small sigh escape. It was going to be a long day. The thought of Victoria, her energy, her willfulness, just tired her out and left her feeling exhausted.

Ron was quiet the rest of the way to Knightsbridge, for which Lilly was appreciative. She was struggling not to tell him to stop the car and turn around. If he had said anything in the slightest negative about this whole adventure, Lilly wouldn't have been able to go through with it. Best not to think about it and just get it over with.

"I'll let myself out, Ron. If you could just meet me here about 2:00 or so, we should be done by then. If not, I'll text you to let you know." She shut the door and headed toward the entrance. As Ron put the car in gear and drove to the usual parking spot he used when he was waiting in this part of town, he had no idea that he would not see her again for some time.

7%7%7%7%7%7%

Donny was waiting; hidden from sight in the alleyway where he had been told the driver of the girl would come to park until he went to pick her up. His skin was getting irritated by the collar of the uniform he had been sent to wear. Seemed like a lot of trouble to go to just for a snatch job, left on his own, he certainly wouldn't have gone to all this trouble, but the boss knew best, he supposed. Right on time, the car and driver that fit the description he was given pulled up and parked in the alley across from his hiding place. He watched the bloke get comfy in his seat with the newspaper. Donny hoped he wouldn't have long to wait.

7%7%7%7%7%7%

When Lilly arrived at the cafe where they planned to have a bite to eat before shopping, she could hear Victoria's laugh ringing through the restaurant, so she followed it.

"Lilly!" Victoria jumped up out of her seat and leaned over to air kiss Lilly's cheek, smiling widely like she was so pleased to see her. She laughed gaily and looked down at Lilly through the hair hanging across her eyes. "I am pleased that you agreed to come shopping with me today. We will have ever so much fun!"

With that Victoria was off. Talking, laughing, and telling stories on her circle of friends. Lilly found that she was actually having a good time. Victoria was being so agreeable and pleasant. It came to an end all too soon when Victoria's mobile received a text from someone telling her that one of her friends had been in an accident and they were asking her to come to the hospital. Lilly offered to go with her, but she insisted that she would be okay on her own. With plans to speak later in the day, they parted ways at the store entrance, Victoria into a taxi and Lilly waiting for Ron to pick her up.

7%7%7%7%7%7%

Once the text came giving him the go-ahead, he stood and quickly walked over to the car and opened the door. The driver was startled, but before he could do anything, Donny injected him with the sedative and it was sleepy time for him. Making sure that the bloke was completely out, he slid him out of the seat, unlocked the boot and dumped him in. Cool and smooth. Placing the driver's hat on his head, he slid into the driver's seat, placed the second syringe on the seat beside him and calmly drove away to pick up the girl.

She was right where she was supposed to be and once she was in the car, she seemed lost in thought and didn't notice anything amiss. It wasn't until the car pulled up in an alleyway did she even look up and by the time she realised that something was wrong, Donny had opened the door and injected her with the sedative. She didn't have a chance to call out or anything. He waited to make sure that she was completely under, and then he picked her up and brought her to the stolen getaway car and stashed her in the rear seat. Donny smiled. All that was left was to take her to the drop site and he was free and clear. He entered the GPS coordinates into his phone and put the car in gear. As he drove away, he didn't notice the homeless woman who had been sitting in the shadows watching him.


	2. Lestrade Shows What He Can Do

**Chapter 2 – Lestrade Shows What He Can Do**

_In which Lestrade gets a prohibition and Sherlock gets a clue._

Slumped at his desk with his chin resting on his balled up fists, DI Greg Lestrade was not a happy man at the moment. He had just returned from the Fairfax estate where he had interviewed the family of the missing young woman and their driver. Naturally they were all upset and wanted him to find Lady Lillian immediately. They wanted it resolved and their daughter restored to them, as if he had been responsible for her having gone missing in the first place.

The father of the missing woman was Lord Henry Fairfax, which of course, just made this whole thing worse, being as he was a well-known philanthropist and public figure. His wife, Lady Constance, was actually the girl's stepmother. There was a stepsister also, name of Victoria. She was apparently the last person to speak with the missing woman, and was having trouble processing that her sister was actually missing.

To make matters even worse, from Lestrade's point of view at least, was that the family had overheard his mention of calling in Sherlock as a consultant and they had demanded that the case be handled within Scotland Yard with only the police involved and even then no unnecessary personnel. They wanted to keep the press out of it as long as possible, and were afraid of leaks with too many people involved.

He had felt empathy for Ronald Somers, the man who had driven Lady Lillian into London this morning and gotten attacked for his trouble. Mr. Somers was very open and wanted to do anything he could to help find the young woman. The man positively radiated the guilt on his face, as if he felt responsible for her going missing, even if it didn't sound as if there was anything he could have done to prevent it. At this point, he wasn't being considered as a suspect in the abduction. Lord Henry had vouched for Mr. Somers integrity and long loyal service to the family. In any case, Lestrade believed his story of being injected and waking up in the boot of the car.

But at this moment, Lestrade was stumped. He didn't have anything to go on, no leads, no witnesses, and his hands were tied as far as calling on Sherlock for help. That mandate had come abundantly clear from the parents, much to Sally Donovan's delight.

Speaking of Sargent Donovan, he saw her standing across the incident room and motioned for her to come into his office.

"Well?" He asked when she leant in through the doorway. "Anderson's team find anything?"

She shook her head, "Not yet. The only prints we found on and in the car belong to the family or the driver. The one set that was unaccounted for we have confirmed belong to the Vic, based on the prints we lifted from her bedroom. They are still analysing that tiny bit of liquid that was found on the front seat, and some fibers they found. It will be a bit until we get the results of those.

"Any leads on witnesses?"

"Negative. No one saw anything out of the ordinary. We've some constables out canvassing, hoping to turn up something."

"What about that stepsister? She was the last one to have contact with her, the last one to speak with her. Did her story check out?"

"According to the sister, they had been shopping together, having a lovely time, when Victoria received a text from someone asking her to come to help a friend who had been hurt. She said that they had parted at the entrance to the store and that she got into a cab to go to the hospital. Once at the hospital, she discovered that the information on the text was not true, and she was able to get a hold of her friend, who it turns out, was never in an accident. The sister let me check her phone to verify that she did receive the text, but the sender info was blocked. So it seems that the text was a rouse to get Lady Lillian alone.

"I also checked the sister's story with the Harrods's doorman, and he confirmed that she got into a cab and that Lady Lillian waited a few minutes alone until her car arrived. He also mentioned that the sister did seem very upset about something and that Lillian appeared to be trying to comfort her before she left. It's like she got into that car and just disappeared."

"The daughter of a member of the House of Lords goes missing, in broad daylight, in the middle of London, and no one sees anything! How is that possible? Someone had to have seen something!" Lestrade ran his fingers through his hair making it stick up a bit in front. "So what DO we have?"

Sally came fully into the room and sat down, taking out her notebook. "So what we have so far: Lady Lillian Fairfax, age 25, is missing, apparently abducted from the Knightsbridge area. The driver of her vehicle had been attacked and injected with something, most likely a sedative, and left unconscious in the boot of the car belonging to the family. The attacker then drove the car around to the entrance of Harrods, picked up Lady Lillian and drove her around to the alleyway where the car was abandoned, with the man Somers still locked in the boot. We have no idea where the perpetrator and/or victim then went. When Somers regained consciousness, he beat on the inside of the boot until the sound attracted a sales girl out on a smoke break, who alerted the police. Her closed handbag was still on the rear seat. The contents appear to be undisturbed, mobile, purse with her money, id, credit cards, etc. We are having her family check to see if anything obvious is missing.

"The first interview with the driver was conducted at the scene. He was very distressed and repeatedly stated, 'Not Lady Lilly, no.' and so on. He was unable to tell us anything about his attacker, other than to say that the attacker had come from the side and slightly behind him, to the right of the car, while he was reading the paper in the front driver's seat. He was injected with the sedative before he could call for help." She held her hand out, palm up, as if to say, that's it.

Lestrade took up the ball then. "The last person to see Lady Lillian had been the doorman at Harrods's when he saw her get into the car and drive away. That had been approximately 1:45. At this point, the family has yet to receive a ransom note or any threats. Which is really odd, isn't it? Not to have heard anything from the abductor by now? Why? Who? What's the motive?"

Sally sat in thought for a minute. "Could it be political? Some disgruntled special interest group unhappy with Lord Henry? Wanting to get back at him, maybe? Come to think of it, wasn't there some little scandal a bit ago involving Lord Henry?"

"Could be. Maybe look into that next, see if Lord Henry has any known enemies. And take a good look into her personal life, friends, boyfriends, anything. And it's always possible Lady Lillian wasn't actually abducted, maybe she did a runner."

"Will do. Still, it would help if we could appeal to the public to be on the lookout." Sally said as she stood. Looking over at her boss, she could see that he was holding back from letting out his frustration with the family not wanting to let him call on other sources of assistance.

"No, Donovan, you know our hands are tied. No press, no Sherlock, we aren't even allowed to mention the missing girl's name, for god sake! I thought you would be pleased. You got your wish. Enjoy." He stood up, rolled his shirt sleeves down, and put on his coat. "I'll be in a meeting with the CI and no doubt the CS, as well to go over everything we don't know. After that, I'm going home. Call me if anything comes up."

She sighed as she watched him leave the office. He was her boss, and she really liked working with him. But she didn't care for his habit of calling in that freak Sherlock Holmes. So she wasn't unhappy when the family put the prohibition on bringing him in, still…she would have liked to be able to put out an all-points bulletin. Without the assistance of the public, it might be impossible to dig up a witness to the abduction.

_7%7%7%7%7%7%_

Meanwhile at 221B Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes was chafing against the solitary confinement of the flat. His mind was racing; he needed something to focus it on. Nothing in the papers or on the web site. Nothing new, nothing interesting, nothing worth his time. The criminals of London were being very dull of late. He threw himself down on the sofa and groaned loudly.

Why did John have to go out of town? Why? Some asinine doctor's conference! Surely it did not require two entire days to teach these doctors how to act interested when their patients listed their mundane petty little problems and how to resist the natural urge to strangle them. How could that possibly be more important than being here, in Baker Street, with him?

Female doctors, his mind supplied. He knew John had gone basically to meet women, rather than to learn new techniques. So again, Sherlock had to ask, how could that possibly be more important than being here helping him? He had actually asked this same question to John before he left, and John had pointed out that there wasn't actually anything going on to help him with, and that Sherlock wouldn't even miss him. Which annoyed Sherlock, who then had inquired who would make him tea if John wasn't there? At that point, John had picked up his bags and slammed the door on his way out of the flat. Curious that. Sherlock could probably spend some time mulling that one over, but decided that in the end it would have to do with sentiment. Boring.

There weren't even any interesting body parts lying around to experiment on. He would have to make an excursion down to St Bart's. Perhaps Molly might have something of interest to show him. And there was always that evidence in the Shoreditch murder to clear up. The case was coming before the court next month and there were still one or two little things of interest he should like look into. St Bart's it would be then. Grabbing up his coat and wrapping his scarf around his neck, he headed out to hail a cab.

As he was about to get into the cab, one of his homeless network stepped up and handed him a folded piece of paper. He opened it and read the short message.

"_Snatching, Knightsbridge, alley behind store. Fancy car/driver. Man said Lady Lilly. Saw all. Coppers clueless. If interested, find me. – Ramona"_

He cocked an eyebrow at the note and gave a two finger salute out the window at the person who had handed him the note, indicating his thanks, and that he might have a look into the matter. Sitting back in the seat, he smiled. "Hmm, perhaps things are getting a bit less dull."

While he was working at the lab, he would spend a bit of time mildly considering the note Ramona had sent him and wondering about the implications of it. But until Lestrade called him in, he wasn't about to actively pursue the information.


	3. Second Thoughts

**_Chapter 3 - Second Thoughts_**

_Where a text is sent which Sally ignores and Sherlock does not._

Sargent Sally Donovan was having second thoughts.

Earlier she had decided to stay late and finish up some reports that were overdue. Now she was starting to feel the day and thinking that the reports could wait. She needed a drink or something to relax.

It was now 8:50 and she was calling it a day. There wasn't any new information or leads to follow up on. Anderson was with his wife tonight, for god's sake and Sally was feeling decidedly irritated with life. Getting out of this place and heading to the pub to have a few as looking better every minute. She shut down her computer and straightened the desk.

Heading for the door, grabbing her coat on the way, she heard the ping of her mobile receiving a text. The sending information was blocked and the message made no sense. It was just a string of numbers, letters and symbols. Oh yay, just what she needed.

She stopped to consider what it meant - didn't have the foggiest and decided that it was a joke or something... Anyway, not her problem. If it was important, they shouldn't have blocked the sender info. The empty room echoed with the sound of the door slamming shut.

7%7%7%7%7%7%

Donny was having second thoughts.

It was one thing to snatch that girl, but what if she died? The boss's instructions had been clear that he wasn't to physically harm her, directly in anyway, other than the injection and securing her ankles together with a couple of zip ties to make it difficult for her to run away, but what if she died...even unintentional like? He'd be standing for murder then. Him...Donny, not the boss.

He didn't even know who the person who hired him was. There had just been a text sent to him through his mobile with the job offer. Instructions to pick up a package at the Victoria Coach Station with the job details and some specific items like the uniform. Also in the package, had been an incentive-like payment to encourage him to take the job. More money had been promised after the job, with the location to be texted after he had dropped the girl off where he was supposed to.

The drop off location had turned out to be an old stone building in a cemetery. Donny had thought it was a weird place to leave her, but the instructions had been real clear about the place, down to the GPS coordinates and everything. He had left a jug of water and a blanket with her, but took her clothes, and then he had secured her ankles as instructed.

He had felt kind of bad about taking her clothes off her when he realised how cold the stone building actually was. Not that he hadn't enjoyed the actual removal of them, he definitely had, and she was a pretty little thing. So he left her there in her underthings with a thin little blanket the only thing between her and freezing. Even though it bothered him a little at the time to do it, orders were orders and he had a bookie to pay. The instructions had been to dump the clothes and her coat into skip, which he had the next alley over from where he had abandoned the stolen car.

In the end, he had done everything just like he was instructed and the boss had come through with the final payment already. Donny appreciated a prompt payer. His bookie appreciated that also.

The more he thought it, though, he started to worry. He told himself that a person couldn't die from the cold. Or could they? The boss indicated that she'd be found right away, that she's be there just long enough to give her a good scare. Donny had waited outside of the Yard for hours watching all the activity and even overheard enough to know that the coppers didn't know where she was. So Donny was having these nasty second thoughts. Screw the boss, he thought, he had his money and he wasn't going down for murder.

He had managed, though one of his Scotland Yard contacts, to get his hands on the mobile number of that nice Sargent Donovan. He'd seen her around and liked the look of her, even if she was a copper. So he typed the coordinates into his mobile and sent off a text to her. He figured that she'd be all over it and go find the girl before she froze to death.

Several minutes later, he saw Donovan leave the building, but she didn't get into her car. She walked down to the pub like she didn't have a care in the world. What was with that!?

It looked to Donny that she wasn't going follow up on his text. Bloody stupid copper! Well, he'd follow her and give her a bit. But if she didn't do something soon, he'd have to think of another way.

7%7%7%7%7%7%

Sherlock Holmes was also having second thoughts. But his were centered on Molly at the moment.

Sitting at the microscope in the lab at St Bart's, he was analysing the chemical composition of the residue deposited on the dog collar, which was a vital piece of evidence in the Shoreditch murder trial. The dog, it was the key. Obviously.

"The dog," he said aloud, "most suggestive."

"What, Sherlock?" Molly bounced over to the counter where he was sitting. She actually bounced. "Hey thanks again for the sweets...Do you need me to get you anything?"

He briefly closed his eyes and decided that he had made a major calculation error with those fruit flavoured Mentos sweets. What had he been thinking? It had seemed like such a good idea when he first thought of injecting the sweets with a bit of concentrated caffeine.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid..." he muttered under his breath. He had concluded prior to giving them to Molly, that there would be no harm to her, well, no likely long term effects anyway, and Molly would have some energy. She had been so tired lately, not to mention having trouble focusing her attention, and Sherlock thought a pick me up might suit her.

"Liar," said the little voice in his head, "you were just getting annoyed at the lack of her normal efficiency." Sherlock told the little voice to just shut up, then opened his eyes and looked at Molly.

"The dog, Molly! Must you bounce so? I fear for the equipment!"

"Sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me!" She rolled her head on her neck as if to release some tension and her ponytail came around and smacked Sherlock on the side of his face. "Oh sorry! Wait, did you say dog?"

"Yes. Dog."

"What about a dog? Do you like dogs? I used to want one when I was young, but then I wanted a cat. I have a cat now, you know. His name is Toby." She paused to draw a breath. "Toby doesn't like dogs. Wait! Did you just call me stupid?"

"No, Molly." He sighed and then cleared his throat. "I was just merely reformulating some data."

He leant back on the stool with a puzzled look on his face. "What was I saying? Oh yes. The dog, Molly, the dog! The curious incident of the dog in the nighttime."

"You mean that cute little dog from the case that you are working on? But, Sherlock, I don't understand. That dog didn't do anything."

"Ah, yes, and that's what is so very curious! Data, Molly, I must have data. I need those analyses done quickly." He leant forward to look through the eye pieces of the microscope until Molly bounced back around the counter and fell against his shoulder, smacking him with her ponytail once more.

"Oops, sorry!"

The sigh came from deep inside Sherlock.

At that moment, his mobile indicated that he had just received a text. He thought about just ignoring it, but realised it was most likely Lestrade, finally getting in touch about that abduction from this afternoon, and he was mildly interested in getting involved in the case. He had decided, based on the information from the note, that there were some intriguing points to it, but he was annoyed with Lestrade for taking so long to ask.

"Molly, my phone, could you -" He broke off suddenly realising that it might be easier, not to mention safer, just to get it himself, rather than risk getting accosted again by the bouncing Molly.

"What about your phone?" Came her super perky voice from across the room. Puzzled, Sherlock looked at her. Hadn't she just been standing next to him less than 30 seconds ago?

"I've a text!" He said brightly as his face assumed his customarily fake sunshiny smile, which also customarily didn't reach his eyes, which managed to look blank. Reaching into the inner pocket of his suit coat, he slid the mobile out and glanced at the display. Not from Lestrade and the sender info was blocked. The fake smile faded and his eyes sharpened as he read the text. Suggestive. Hmm.

"Who's it from? Is it John? Is he having a good time at the conference? Tell him I said, Hi!" Molly trilled over her shoulder from across the room. When Sherlock didn't answer, she turned around to look at him. As she watched, his eyes went unfocused, as they did when he was thinking. Oh my, she thought. I don't understand how his eye colour can change like that. Bright blue when he's focused, kind of a soft green when he's not. Still handsome either way...

Once again she had the thought that there wasn't anything she wouldn't do for him. All he had to do was ask.

At the exact second that thought passed through her head, Sherlock looked up sharply - focused completely on Molly's face and asked...

As she handed over her car keys, Molly was still trying to work out how he did that. Did he read her mind or something? Scary thought that. Especially as most of her thoughts regarding Sherlock would be deeply embarrassing to her if he was aware of them. She knew he knew she fancied him. How could he not? What with all his observational skills. Still, she gave him her car keys, idling wondering if he even had a driving licence, without questioning why he needed them. Now that he had left, Molly was having second thoughts on the wisdom of lending him her little car. She hoped neither one ended up smashed to bits.

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much to my followers and those awesome people who have left reviews. I really appreciate the feedback and it makes me want to write more. If you see a threat hidden in the previous sentence, you are very perceptive... ;) Please review!


	4. A Cold Dark Confusion

**Chapter 4 – A Cold Dark Confusion**

_In which the lady considers the facts and ponders the meaning._

Lady Lillian Fairfax drifted between light and dark, warmth and cold, laughter and terror.

She was aware on some level that she was lapsing between sleep and wakefulness and that one of the current states she was experiencing was a dream and the other reality. But which? Her head was fuzzy, she didn't have the desire to be bothered trying to focus it, and so drifted off again.

Sometime later, she came to herself sharply. Her mind was clearing and she realised sadly the dream state had passed. As she felt along her body with her hands, she understood what her reality was. Freezing cold, pitch black and quite frankly, terror inducing.

When she tried to open her eyes, she realised that they were already open. Why couldn't she see? Was she blinded somehow? How did she get here? And most alarming, where were her clothes? All these frantic thoughts and questions piled up in her head, which was throbbing painfully with the worst headache ever.

As panic started to rise in her, the throbbing got worse. Lilly realised that giving into the panic wouldn't help either her situation or the pain in her head. Taking a deep breath (air flow – good, air quality – not so much) to calm herself, she began a systematic search of the facts.

Fact 1: She was in some as yet unknown place where it was very cold, smelled musty, and there was no light.

Fact 2: Based on the brief inventory she had made of her body, she was missing her outer clothing and her feet were tied together somehow, but not secured to anything else, and so she could move somewhat.

Fact 3: She was quite sure that she was mostly unharmed, no blood or open wounds from what she could determine, excepting of course the serious headache and the chafing around her ankles from the restraints.

Fact 4: Someone had to have left her here, as she would hardly have chosen to put herself, half naked and tied up, anywhere, least of all in this nasty place.

Fact 5: She still had a fuzzy head, but she thought the last thing she remembered was Ron the driver - who wasn't actually Ron the driver, sticking a needle in her arm.

So...conclusions?

Some person unknown had done something to Ron (she hoped he was alright), drugged her, brought her to this location, taken her clothes (thank god they left her with at least her bra and knickers), basically hobbled her with some kind of restraints (plastic cording perhaps), and then left her here alone in the cold and the dark. For what purpose?

Although once she thought of it, it occurred to her that they might not have left at all. She tried to hear any sounds over the beating of her heart, but she couldn't hear anything. Which could have meant something or nothing at all. But her instinct, her gut feeling, was telling her that she was alone. Comforting, but not really.

She considered calling out, but decided that it would do her no good, as she sensed that there wasn't anyone around to hear her. Feeling around on the hard surface where she lay, a flagstone floor she guessed, Lilly tried to sit up but became terribly giddy, so she thought she might not try that again for a bit. There was a pile of material under half of her body. Not clothing, a blanket, she discovered when she managed to pull it out from under herself. As the blanket came free, there was a slap on the stones by her head. Mentally marking the approximate direction of the sound, she slowly reached her hand over her head and felt gingerly around. Her hand finally brushed against something that rolled slightly. After several tries, she was able to grasp it. Based on the feel and weight of it in her hand, she guessed it was a plastic bottle full of liquid, with the sealed cap still unbroken. More than likely it was a bottle of water.

Adding Fact 6: The person or persons unknown, she did know that at least one of them was a man, had left her the blanket and the water, which indicated a wish to provide some level of comfort. Not that it comforted her much, but she supposed that they didn't have to have left her that much, so it was something anyway.

Who would do this? Why? The panic started to build again, so Lilly mentally took herself in hand once more before she lost what control she had. She had to focus on what she could do and not on what she couldn't.

She had a blanket. Ok. She decided to try sitting up again to get the blanket wrapped around her and under her for a barrier, however slight, between her body and the stone floor. She managed somehow to get the blanket around her without passing out, although she couldn't prevent having to vomit a bit. Most unpleasant, but she managed to keep it off to the side of the blanket. She hoped that the smell would lessen soon, it wasn't helping her nausea. Once she was settled again, after crawling a few feet to the left of the puddle, she realised that thankfully she had kept a hold on the bottle.

Holding the bottle reminded her that she was terribly thirsty, and really wished to wash her mouth out also, which naturally started a debate within her as to if it was safe to drink it or not. Perhaps it was poisoned? Well, the seal was still intact and frankly, she thought if they wanted to kill her, she'd already be dead. She decided to risk it. And the liquid turned out to be exactly what she assumed it to be: clean bottled water. Not artesian, naturally, but good none the less. After taking just a few small sips, she carefully screwed the top back on and placed it between her legs so it couldn't roll away.

Lilly was by this time beginning to feel very fatigued. She curled her body up as much as possible to conserve her body heat. It was so very cold. She was shivering and her teeth had started to chatter, which she found mildly interesting as she had never really been sure that teeth did in fact chatter.

Aware that time was passing, she began to shiver less and less. It was becoming difficult to concentrate. One part of her brain began work on the idea that perhaps she should try to explore the area and see if there was some way to get out, but another part of her brain took notice that she had become markedly languid. Sleepy even. Certainly lethargic.

In the deep recesses of her mind, she knew that to give into this desire to sleep would be her undoing, but it was becoming very difficult to care. Just before she nodded off, she was abruptly brought to her senses.

Sound. Echoing across the floor. The scrape of wood against stone, the creak of rusted metal protesting movement, the dull thud of a shoe on a flagstone floor.

Light. So bright she was forced to close her eyes in pain. She, who had so wished for light in this dark place for so long, now wished it to go away and leave her alone. She held up her hand to block some of the light. There was a click and the brightest of the light went away.

Lilly became aware despite her increasingly confused senses, that there was a vision standing across the room from her. A silhouette was backlit as it filled the doorway. Very tall, the vision seemed to loom over her, movement causing some long garment it wore to sway. Was it a demon come to terrorize her or an angel come to rescue her? Then it spoke and she realised it was both.

"Ah, there you are." There was a pause, and then the voice continued, "Hmm...Interesting. It would appear that you have gotten yourself in a bit of a situation. Good thing I happened to fancy a drive tonight, wouldn't you say?"

* * *

AN – Hmm I wonder who that could be... I'll give you another hint: A Tall Dark and Handsome Sociopath, anyone? - RS


	5. Light in the Darkness

**Chapter 5 – Light in the Darkness**

_In which Sherlock gets it a bit wrong, but mostly right._

A short time earlier…

Sherlock Holmes was looking over the situation with a slight trepidation. Dr. Hooper has a Mini Cooper. He should have anticipated that. Well, it was either this or a call over to the garage where Mycroft kept a few vehicles in town and he couldn't be bothered with the red tape, not to mention staying under Mycroft's radar. It could be worse, he thought, at least it's not pink. Sighing, he folded himself up under the steering wheel and pulled out of the parking spot.

He pictured the text, _N 51 14.159, W 0 11.795_, in his mind, did some rapid searching in his mental map and headed toward the M25, which would drop him on the A217, the London Road south to Reigate. Once he got near to the destination, he would need to use the GPS app on his phone for the exact placement. It would be an approximately 30 minute drive, so he settled back in the seat and began to use the time reviewing the periodic table to keep himself from considering possible theories, which was always counter-productive without data.

Twenty-six minutes, forty-three seconds later, he turned down the dirt track that led to a small stone building located in the Reigate Cemetery. The small building was in a tidy clearing, surrounded on three sides by tall evergreen trees. Several possibilities occurred to him as he pulled the car over onto the grass opposite the natural parking area one would use if one was parking with the intention of entering the building. The site was within the town, but yet remote, being as it was surrounded by the trees, and in the middle of such a large cemetery. The trees would perhaps provide adequate cover from prying eyes?

Pulling his torch from the pocket of his coat, he began a systematic examination of the ground around the parking area. Tyre impressions, boot prints, and mud. Sherlock smiled to himself. The whole of the narrative lay before his observant eyes.

Rain this morning, ending shortly before noon - so mud, but not puddles of wet. The boots, men's work boots, size 10, tracked through the mud from the vehicle, likely a four door saloon car, with a slight oil leak, to the door of the building. A button lying in the mud by a tyre impression, from a uniform most likely, but inconsistent with the work boots. Threads indicate button was loose, not ripped from uniform in struggle. Actually no sign of struggle at all. What was Work Boots doing here?

Work boots leaves car, goes to door of building, comes back after entering building, goes to rear passenger door, removes something slightly heavy, but not unmanageable for one man. No sign of struggling with the burden, so the burden was inert. Returns to building with the burden over right shoulder. Enters building. Returns to car without burden and drives away. Several more ideas present.

Something about the boots plus the button tugs at his mind. Uniform and work boots, very odd.

"Oh!" Sherlock quickly looks up at the building. The connections clicked in his brain. Uniform button, work boots caring a burden into the building but not out, the note from Ramona about the abduction earlier today. "Name, name, what was the name which the driver said as…?'

He was about to pull the note out of his pocket and read it again, but then it came to him…Lady Lilly.

Not likely for a Lady to be named Lilly, so Lilly short for Lillian…and assuming that the driver was referring to a titled Lady Lillian… A search on his phone produced Lady Lillian Fairfax, father Lord Henry Fairfax, who was recently involved in a minor scandal within the House of Lords. Interesting. Very interesting, considering that Lestrade has not contacted him for his assistance in what would naturally be an important case. Hmm, he would return to that thought later.

So in all possibility, the burden dropped off here was the dead body of Lady Lillian Fairfax. Work Boots left the body and there had been no one else with him. The abductor/abductors would have left a lookout, logically, to watch over a live kidnap victim. So more than likely, the woman was already dead. With that thought, Sherlock began a meticulous examination of the door and the lock, collecting items in the evidence bags that he always carried about his person. Just after tweezering a long reddish brown hair into a bag, he became aware that something was nudging his mind. He was missing something.

He stopped and tried to blank out his thoughts, to get the elusive one to come to the fore. What was it?

He pulled his mobile out of his inner shirt pocket. Ah, the text. Why would someone send him a text giving him the coordinates where a body would be found? Remorse? The deed was done, can't take it back so…no. Sentiment? Not wanting the body to be undiscovered for too long? Why? It made no sense. The abductor was clearly not careful of leaving behind his tracks. So the text must not have been planned or…

"Oh, for god's sake! How could I have been so blind! Obviously, it is not a dead body I am tracking. She must still be alive." Taking care not to disturb the trace evidence, Sherlock opened the door.

After shining his torch around, he realised that there were no windows and once he shut the door behind him, no light would betray his presence to the outside. He carefully flipped the switch by the side of the door, listening intently for any sound. He heard none. The tracks through the dust showed Work Boots had gone directly to the last door, walked through it and had come back out. Ergo, that was where she was.

Matching the placement of his feet to within Work Boots tracks, he carefully, but quickly made his way across the hallway. He reached the door, opened it and shined the torch around the small room. There on the floor about 10 feet away lay a person curled up in a foetal position, holding a hand in front of the face. With a click, Sherlock shut off the torch.

"Oh bother, it's still alive," he thought to himself. "That's going to complicate things."

The hand came down and he got his first look at the girl in the light coming from the hallway behind him.

"Ah, there you are." He said to cover his initial irritation. John would no doubt tell him it was 'not good' to be irritated that the person you thought was dead, actually wasn't. And he was irritated with himself for not realizing the possibility of it when he first got here. Wasted time! "Hmm, interesting. It would appear that you have gotten yourself in a bit of a situation. Good thing I happened to fancy a drive tonight. Wouldn't you say?"

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" A weak voice came to him from across the floor.

"My dear, I believe you are confusing me for your abductor, which I am not. My name is Sherlock Holmes and unless I'm missing my mark, you are Lady Lillian Fairfax. Am I right?"

Her eyes widened a bit and she nodded her head. "Good." he thought, "At least I got that right. There's always something. Apparently this time it was a live body as opposed to a corpse…oh well."

* * *

A/N: Please review. No author likes to live in a vacuum. We need reviews.


	6. A Detective and a Gentleman

**Chapter 6 – A Detective and a Gentleman**

_In which the circumstances of the lady are revealed._

Lady Lillian looked up at the figure looming in the doorway. Was he a demon or an angel? She still wasn't certain. Possibly she was dreaming again, or perhaps dead. She rather assumed that St Peter would be less daunting, so it was quite probable this was Satan. But then again, she didn't think that Satan would have a sense of humour, so he must be at least partly human.

"Are you the police?"

"Good heavens, no, but Scotland Yard does often work with me. I am a Consulting Detective. I must say, it would be extremely useful to have some illumination within this room. Would you mind if I turned on the overhead light? Thank you. You may wish to cover your eyes until they adjust." Flipping the light switch, Sherlock waited until she brought her hand away from her eyes, then he started forward into the room, stopping abruptly when he saw the girl flinch. Holding out his hand, palm upward in unwitting supplication, he said in a calm voice, "I mean you no harm. I have come only to help. To assist you though, I must attend to certain things. May I approach you?"

He waited, trying to keep his haste in check, for her to agree. Once she nodded her assent, he slowly shifted his trajectory to the right and made a slight circle toward her side, rather than approaching directly. This would hopefully seem less threating to her and also preserve any clue left in the straight line from the doorway. He moved deliberately and efficiently, holding his arms loosely out to the side and slightly away from his body in a gesture that indicated nonaggression. The last thing he needed was a hysterical female, wailing and what not. When he was about three feet from her, she held up her hand to stop him.

"Careful, I had a bit of a sick there."

Sherlock looked down and at that moment the smell of stomach acid reached his nose. "Thank you for the timely warning."

Then to her surprise, he knelt down and scooped up some of the vomit into a small plastic bag. "I will require an approximate time frame for the regurgitation event and the details of what preceded it. For now the sample is sufficient."

He had gone down to a kneeling position to acquire the sample, and he surprised Lilly once more by not standing again, but instead he stretched out full length on the floor with his head near the edge of the blanket she had tucked around her feet. He produced a magnifier from his coat pocket and began a minute examination of the floor, collecting tiny, near invisible objects with a tweezers and dropping them into another of the plastic bags. After circling her completely in this manner, he suddenly stopped and looked directly at her face.

"Cold", he murmured. Then he reached out and lightly touched her cheek. "Very cold. Hmm."

Clearly, the girl was in danger of hypothermia. He needed to remove her to some place warm, without delay. It was also vital to continue examining the scene. Oh why did John have to pick this week of all weeks to go to that blasted conference?

The circumstances were intolerable. He couldn't possibly continue his examination and care for the immediate health needs of the girl at the same time. Incredibly vexing this. He briefly acknowledged that a dead victim would be easier overall, but…there was the tradeoff that a live one might have clues to tell. The average person's recollection however was dismal, and Sherlock didn't hold out much hope for help on that front. Oh bother.

Well there was nothing for it. It would be quite embarrassing to allow the lady die of neglect once he had found her in time to save her life. He would never hear the end of that one from the morons down at Scotland Yard. And actually, he knew that he would be unable to live with himself if she died on his watch. He wasn't actually heartless, as most people believed him to be. He in fact felt deeply about the human race, which was why he did what he did in the first place. Solving puzzles was only part of it; he did want to help people.

Lilly watched as he appeared to be having some internal struggle with himself. Then he sighed deeply and seemed resigned to whichever side won.

So, first order of business, get her someplace warm. Molly's car had a heater and no doubt a first aid kit if necessary.

"Lady Lillian, we must get you out of this situation. I propose that we depart to the car I have outside and then we can reassess our plan once there." He was surprised at the reaction this statement had on the girl, she seemed to shrink further into the blanket. You would have thought that he was suggesting something scandalous, rather than the sensible solution. "Unless, of course, you wish to remain here indefinitely. Should I perhaps leave you to it?"

"No! Don't leave." She struggled to sit up and as she did so the blanket came away from her body. Sherlock simultaneously noticed both the fact of her bound ankles and her lack of clothing. Both facts indicated something to him, but it was obscure, so he filed the facts away for later and concentrated on how to solve this new dilemma. Obviously, the zip ties had to come off. That chaffing did look a bit nasty.

The only question was, now or once he had her to the car? Taking to mind the vulnerable state the young woman was in both physically and mentally, Sherlock decided the soonest the better. The question then was what would be the most efficient way to remove the ties. He considered using a small pocket knife, but to use that would require sliding it under the tie, and against the skin, putting unnecessary pressure on her chafed and bleeding skin. So, not a knife.

"I will need to remove those restraints from you ankles. I will attempt not to cause you further pain."

Reaching into his trouser pocket, he removed a large nail clipper, showed it briefly to Lilly in the palm of his hand, then deftly severed the plastic with two snips. With the second snip of the clippers, an overwhelming rage surged through Sherlock at the person who had done this. As quickly as it had risen, he was able to pull it back under control and use it to focus. Noticing her staring at his face, he put up the bland mask once more, unperturbedly slipping the removed zip ties into an evidence bag. But Lilly had seen it, brief though it was and hoped with all her heart that this strange man never had need to focus that on her. She shuddered with the thought.

"Do you think that you could stand, and perhaps walk?" Sherlock held out his arm to her, to help her up, but it was apparent that she was unable to stand on her own; walking was out of the question. Gaining his feet, but still bent toward her, he said gently, "I think perhaps I will need to carry you, Lady Lillian. We really must get you out of here. Will you allow me to do so?"

The properness in the framing of this request startled Lilly after the almost visceral anger she had seen in his face not seconds before and quite undid her. She nodded and held up her arms, much like a small child asking to be picked up. He smiled slightly at the image, before leaning down and scooping her into his arms. The blanket slid to the floor as he did so, and he was reminded that she was missing most of her clothes. The smile turned into a frown and his eyes lost their focus for a second. Again that something elusive…

Once he had Lilly in his arms, Sherlock realised that he would need to have at least one arm free to maneuver. Also it occurred to him that she would be warmed faster inside the coat with his own body heat, so he quickly moved her weight to one arm and then opened his coat and tucked her inside against his torso. Lilly was so surprised by this that she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist like she used to when her father would carry her as a child.

"Please be so good as to wrap your arms around my neck, as it will stabilize your position. It would also do much to promote the exchange of body heat if you were to turn your upper body toward mine as much as possible. I do realise that the position is awkward, but it's only for the few minutes until I can get you to the car." And then he proceeded to tuck as much of the coat around her as possible.

Lilly shifted, moving as close to him as she could, he was so very warm. She was aware that normally she wouldn't press herself up against another person like this, let alone a complete stranger, but the warmth was so wonderful she didn't care. If she could have crawled inside his clothes with him she would have in that moment.

Sherlock wasn't focused on the physical contact as his mind was considering a call to Lestrade and perhaps some medical people to see to her injuries. Sod that John! He could really have used a bit of help here.

Once she seemed to be settled, Sherlock started for the door. Just then the water bottle that Lilly had so carefully tucked between her knees, but which had been forgotten, rolled across the floor and came to rest against the discarded blanket.

"Oh, my water. I need that." Lilly started to say, and then stopped with a look of confusion on her face. Sherlock frowned down at her and she felt that she had to explain herself under the intense gaze of his eyes and his slightly raised eyebrow with its unspoken question. "I had put it between my legs so it wouldn't roll away from me."

"Clever thinking. How did you come to have it? Did you have it with you when you were taken?"

"No. It was here, with the blanket."

"Inconsistences abound. Well, it's a thread, we just need to find the end and follow it."

Stooping to retrieve the bottle from the floor, he became vaguely aware of her presence in his personal space. Odd that. It would normally bother him. But in fact he recognised that he was feeling rather protective of this small woman, fiercely so as he wrapped his arm around her more securely. She was so small and almost childlike, cuddling against him like this.

As he carried Lilly out to the car that intangible something continued nudging at his mind. What was it? What was he missing? What was he seeing or not seeing here? There was something and it was bothering him.

* * *

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my own gentleman expert, who demonstrated various zip tie removal methods for me. Once again he was correct, which is why he is my go to guy.

I also want to thank the lovely readers who have reviewed: Ella Mantry, taytayfanatical, britt158, and Jamie Lynn. It's really great to know when someone likes your work. Please feel free to review again or perhaps for the first time. As I've said before, writers cannot exist in a vacuum. At least this one can't.


	7. Strangers in a Strange Land

**Chapter 7 - Strangers in a Strange Land**

_In which Sherlock needs some help and Lilly has another shock._

Once he had deposited Lady Lillian, wrapped in his coat, into the car, Sherlock became aware that he was feeling disturbed. The logical thing would be to phone Lestrade and let his people deal with the girl, allowing him to continue at the scene. And yet he hesitated to make the call. Why? The whole set of circumstances was making him uneasy. Nothing was tallying up, and until it did, he was disinclined to summon assistance. This left him with the problem of how to take care of the girl and still continue his examination. He couldn't just leave her locked in the car while he finished up, could he? Given the evident fragility of the young woman, coupled with the unknown aspect of the Texter and the secluded area, made him quite sure that leaving her alone would not be the best idea.

"Oh, that bloody John! Never here when I need him." Sherlock muttered under his breath, thinking once again of the simplicity of the deceased. The living were rather a pain in the arse. Well, there was nothing for it. He gave himself up to being a nursemaid. But John was certainly going to get an earful when he returned.

Sherlock assumed it would difficult to maneuver in the small car, so he kicked the heat up as high as it would go, located the expected first aid kit, Molly was a doctor after all, and went around to the passenger side, opening the door. Kneeling down on the ground, he began to dress the raw skin around Lady Lillian's ankles. The fact of the ankles being bound troubled Sherlock. Another inconsistency, why bind her ankles but not her hands…? Even while his hands continued their business, his mind began teasing out possible theories.

Lilly was suddenly very self-conscious, being tended by this very strange man while she was practically naked. True she was now wearing his coat as opposed to him wearing her. That thought did not bring her much comfort though, as she realised that he had in fact been as good as wearing her, carrying her under his coat with her all wrapped around him, clinging to him like that. The flush rose on her cheeks as she remembered the heat coming off his body, the slight spicy scent of his skin that she had become aware of coming from the open collar of his shirt, and the soft feel of the hair that came nearly down to his collar, and how it had curled around her fingers while she cling to his neck. She wasn't one for physical intimacy, the one person who had touched her on a regular basis, her mum, had been dead for ten years and with the death of her mother, her father had become distant with Lilly. She couldn't remember the last time she had touched anyone in other than a passing way. Still, one needed to observe the social refinements even in bizarre situations, which were after all part of her breeding. So she tried to pull herself together and speak to him.

"I should like to thank you, Mr.…oh, forgive me, but with all the…cold and what not, I have quite forgotten your name…for rescuing me." Lilly stammered at the top of Sherlock's head as he held her ankle in one hand and was using his other to apply a salve of some kind to it. Her voice must have startled him from his thoughts, almost as if he had forgotten she was there, as he jumped a bit at the sound of it. Sherlock tilted his head back and focused his blue-green eyes up at her with a slight smile as if he was humouring a small child.

"Is that what I did? Indeed. Well, you were a fair lady lost, I suppose." He chuckled a bit at the thought of himself as a knight in shining armor. Most knights didn't carry vomit samples around in their coat pockets. He dipped his head in Lilly's direction, a sort of bow as he was in fact on his knees already. "It's Holmes. Sherlock Holmes at your service, my Lady."

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes."

"You are most welcome, Lady Lillian. Or is it Lady Lilly? That was what your driver referred to you as."

"Ron? Is he alright? I've been so worried about him. I didn't know what happened to him, but I knew that he wouldn't willingly have let that man into our car, so something must have happened." Lilly looked intently at Sherlock waiting for him to tell her that Ron was fine, she didn't know what she would do if he wasn't.

Sherlock sat back on his heels, finished tending to her ankles. "I have no idea. I imagine he is, as he was the one that reported you missing. He was locked in the boot of the car."

"Oh my god! Poor Ron. Who would do such a thing?"

"Indeed, that is a question to be considered." He thought perhaps it was time to get a few answers to his questions. Tilting his head to the side, contemplating her expressions, he asked, "Lady Lillian, do you have any idea who would want to abduct you? Did you recognise the man who took you? Do you have any enemies? Are you involved with any, shall we say, shady characters?"

"No, Mr. Holmes. I lead a very quiet life. I have no idea who would want to do this. While I was in there", she said, tipping her head in the direction of the stone building, which for some reason, looked a bit familiar to her…

"Yes?" Sherlock had noted the puzzled look that had crept into her face as she considered the building. "Ah, you recognise something about this place. What is it?"

"I'm not positive, but I think I've been here before. What is this place?"

"Actually, we happen to be in the Reigate Cemetery."

"No. No it can't be." The little colour that Lilly had gotten back into her face with the returning warmth to her body, suddenly melted away, leaving her deathly pale.

"What? Tell me quickly, what is this place to you? Does it hold some significance for you personally?"

"My mother is buried here." She whispered the words so quietly, that Sherlock had to lean forward into the car to hear her. Once he understood what she said, he was able to make up his mind about several things. One of which was to get her out of here immediately. Another was not to call Lestrade after all. He was now very sure that this girl was still in danger. And that the danger came from someone known to her.

"Lady Lillian, I am going to need you to trust me. Will you do so?" He watched her nod her head, but frankly she was so shocked by their present location, that he wasn't confident that she understood what he was saying. So he shut her door and went around the car to get in, looking quickly around as he did so. "I will take you some place safe. Where no one will be able to find you or hurt you. Once there, we will work out the remaining questions."

7%7%7%7%7%7%7%

Donny knew it was a risk, coming back here to the cemetery, but he was still worried about that girl. He had parked his own car on a side street outside of the vicinity and had walked through the gravestones until he got to the line of evergreens that bordered the area around the stone building. Once there, he had been relieved to see the little Cooper parked outside. He could see that there was someone sitting in the front passenger seat, and someone leaning in through the open door. Good. Someone came. She's going to be okay. It was a relief.

While he stood there, hidden by the trees, a tall bloke stood up suddenly and walked around the car to get in. He figured he must be that web site detective, Sherlock Holmes, who he had sent the text to. Good thing too, she might have been dead if he had waited on that copper Donovan. Watching them drive away, Donny had a thought. Maybe he should get back in there and clear some of his tracks away before the coppers came.

7%7%7%7%7%7%

Molly was just finishing up her shift, wondering when Sherlock would be back with her car, and if she should wait around here at the hospital, or just go home without it. She wondered if there was a patron saint or something for Consulting Detectives, because if there was, she might consider appealing to them for some help here. Just as that thought crossed her mind, she received a text from the man himself.

Come to Baker Street immediately – SH

Molly wasn't very happy to see that, as for some reason, she was feeling so fatigued. More exhausted than she had been all week, which seemed strange as she had had all that energy earlier. She really didn't want to go anywhere but home. Her mobile beeped again.

Immediately as in now – SH

Fine, she thought, at least she could pick up her car then. She started to reply, but her phone beeped again. Really, Sherlock? Give me a second here, will you! She frowned at the display.

Please, need your expertise, will pay for cab – SH

Hoping it wasn't just that he needed some coffee made; she finally got the reply sent.

Well, because you asked so nicely. On my way. – MH

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Once again, I cannot possibly exist in a vacuum. Thank you, Guest, for your lovely review on chapter 6. Reviews make me really happy. And a happy writer…well, they write. See it's a circle thingy. And circles are much nicer than vacuums.


	8. Safe Shelter

**Chapter 8 – Safe Shelter**

_In which Molly comes to help and Sherlock is secretive._

Fifteen minutes later, Molly raised her hand to knock on the door of 221B Baker Street. She was surprised when before her knuckles could connect with the door, it was opened and Sherlock was pushing past her to pay the cabbie. Before she could recover from that surprise, Sherlock had his hand on her elbow and was pulling her up the stairs to his flat.

"Did anyone follow you here?" he asked in a whisper. "What took you so long? I've been waiting ages."

"Sherlock, I came as soon as I got your text." Molly said in her normal voice, only to be shushed by Sherlock and his other hand coming down on her lips to stop her talking. She was tired and not feeling like playing Sherlock games, so she shot him a glare until he removed it. Using a whisper, without knowing why, Molly added, "How would I know if anyone followed me? Why would anyone follow me? Where's my car?"

"That is not important. And keep your voice down!" He hissed in her ear.

"It's a damn sight important to me, Sherlock!" She hissed back at his shoulder. Why did he have to be so tall? "Where's my car? Please tell me that you didn't crash it!"

"I did not crash it! If you must know, it's parked out in the rear. I thought it would be safer to come in through Mrs. Hudson's kitchen. She is currently away visiting her sister."

"Safer for what? Oh, never mind, I don't care, just give me my keys and I'll leave you to it." Molly looked around the flat and saw her keys lying on the kitchen table. "Right then. I'll just take them and get out of your hair."

"NO!" The intensity of the exclamation took them both back for a second. Molly looked over at Sherlock as if he had suddenly gone off his nut. Back to a whisper, he added, "No, you can't leave yet. I need you."

"Why are you whispering? Why am I whispering? I'm kind of afraid to ask, because frankly, I'm really knackered and I would like to go home now…but I can see that possibility slipping away. Sherlock, what's going on?"

In answer, Sherlock again took possession of her elbow and walked her over to his closed bedroom door. Molly had a brief shock to her system as it occurred to her that she was alone with Sherlock in his flat and that his bedroom was beyond the door that he was taking her toward. She was pretty sure there was a bed in there, but with Sherlock, you never knew, as he might sleep standing up or something, and though she may have had a dream or two, well maybe five like this, the reality of it was worrisome.

"Sherlock, I really think I should go. It's late; I have to feed Toby…" Her words trailed off when he held a finger up to his lips and opened the door.

There, lying on Sherlock's bed, wrapped in his coat, was a young woman. She appeared to be taking a kip. Molly's feelings became confused. One second she was irritated with Sherlock for making her come to the flat, then she was uncomfortable being alone with him, which made no sense as that was actually something she'd always wanted, and now she was feeling something like green eyed jealousy for some trollop that was in Sherlock's bed. What in the world did he need her for? A three-some or something? She wanted to back out of the doorway, fetch her keys and get the hell out of there. Sherlock felt her starting to pull away, so he increased the pressure of his fingers on her elbow, and slowly turned her around, taking her back into the lounge.

"I-I-I have to go now," Molly stammered out, trying to pull her arm away from him. "Whatever it is you need me for, I really don't think I can help…"

"Oh for god's sake, Molly, you are a doctor! Don't you have an oath or some such rot you have to go by?" He growled ferociously at her. "You cannot just walk away from an injured person! It would be against the rules! Even I know that!"

Molly stopped squirming and asked distrustfully, "Who's injured?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes toward the ceiling as if asking for assistance from a higher power. But there was no higher power here except him. What was amiss with Molly? She could be a bit dim at times, but never this completely clueless. The look he gave Molly was as a stern and disappointed parent scolding a badly behaved child, then jerked his head to indicate the bedroom. "I am not in the habit of keeping young women in my bed, Molly. Who else do you think I could possibly be referring to? Mrs. Hudson? John? The head in the refrigerator? "

Molly had the grace to look sheepish. How had she let her sense get away from her like that? This was Sherlock. Of course he didn't normally keep young women in his bed. Such as the pretty, petite, red haired girl, currently lying in it, who also just happen to be wrapped in his coat. The jealous feeling was returning, but Molly pulled herself together and decided to be professional. She was a doctor after all. "So who is she and what injuries does she have? And more important, why is she here and not in hospital?"

"Molly, I need you to promise me that this goes no further. I must have your word not to speak of it until such a time as I indicate that you may." He waited for her to nod her assent. "Her name is Lady Lillian Fairfax. She was abducted earlier today…well, technically yesterday afternoon, by as yet unidentified persons with undetermined motives. There appear to be compelling reasons to believe that she remains in some danger, and so at this juncture, I have not communicated with the police nor deemed it safe to seek medical assistance. Other than you, of course."

"Oh my god, Sherlock! What happened to her? Is she alright?" Molly's professionalism dimmed as her kind and compassionate nature asserted itself.

"Well, Molly, if I was a doctor, I would know the answer to that question and I would not have needed to call you, would I? But I am not, and John is off chasing women, so if you would be so kind…?" he inclined his head toward the bedroom. "All this talk is wasting time. Time that we do not have."

With a sigh, Molly slipped off her coat and wondered what she had got herself into. "Do you have some medical supplies around here, I don't know what I'll need until I get a look at her, but you can start rounding up some basics."

Sherlock's eyes went unfocused for a minute, thinking. Picturing the condition in which he had found the girl, it was possible…no, he rejected the idea…Based on her reaction to his physical presence: wary but not afraid. The condition of her underclothes: intact, no rips. No indication of possible injury: no sign of blood on her upper thighs, no visible discomfort in that region while he was carrying her…still. She had been unconscious in the solo presence of Work Boots. "You do not perhaps have a rape kit with you?"

"You think she was assaulted?"

"Actually, no, I do not believe that she has been, but should the need arise, I know for a fact that I do not possess one of those, as the necessity has never presented before."

"Well, let's hope the need does not present now. Really, I still think we need to get her to the proper authourities."

"Molly, at this moment she is as safe as she can be. I will not expose her to anyone else until I know who did this and why."

"Sherlock, this is all wonky, what about the chain of evidence? All this," she waved her hand vaguely in the air, "is going to put the case at risk when it goes to trial."

"None of that is relevant. Obviously, Molly, this case will not be going to trial, haven't you been paying attention?" As he said this, they both heard a groan coming from the bedroom. Lady Lillian was awake.

* * *

A/N: I do enjoy doing the silly bits with Sherlock and Molly.

Once again, I cannot possibly exist in a vacuum. Thank you, geekydancer4935 and britt158, for your lovely reviews on chapter 7. Reviews make me really happy. And a happy writer…well, they write. There have been many studies done proving this fact. Mostly by writers, but still…


	9. Cui Bono?

**Chapter 9 – Cui Bono?**

_In which Lilly gets flustered, Molly gets bossy and Sherlock gets tea._

The dream was very odd but quite fascinating. Lilly was in the dark and it was bitterly cold. Then it was light and she was warm, oh so warm. The man was puzzling to her as he seemed both cold and warm simultaneously. But safe. He made her feel sheltered. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his narrow waist, her arms around his neck as he enveloped her within his coat, pressing her body tightly against his. She had the awareness of being wrapped around him, cuddling into him, inhaling his scent, his soft hair curling around her fingers. Oh it was lovely. One part of Lilly, namely her brain, understood this was a dream, another part, her body, most specifically the parts of her body most in contact with the heat coming of the man really didn't care, not wanting the sensation of physical contact to end. She heard a moan come from nearby, and in that strange way of dreams, she understood it had come from her; she woke with a start to find the man from the dream looming over her. Realizing the thought that had produced the moan, Lilly blushed in her embarrassment, but he did not seem to have noticed, thank goodness.

"Good. You are awake. There are questions that I must have the answers to." His voice was brisk and business like. He gestured at the bed, "May I sit?"

The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge of it facing the headboard so he could watch her face. Lilly couldn't take her eyes off him. He was quite possibly the most interesting looking man she had ever seen. He was actually much more attractive in the flesh than in the dream, with his pale skin, dark slightly too long curls and those blue eyes. Or were they green, it was hard to tell in this light. Lilly felt that she was staring, so she dropped her gaze. Unfortunately, it landed on the same narrow waist from the dream that she had been so enjoying, which startled her and began a new blush creeping across her cheeks as she tried to settle her gaze on something safe, like his left ear lobe.

The rich baritone of his voice vibrated through the mattress, interfering with her thoughts of how nicely shaped his ear was actually. "Are you alright? You appear to still be a bit dazed. I need you to focus, Lady Lillian…"

"Lilly. Please call me Lilly." She said, interrupting him, and then added, "Oh dear, I seem to have forgotten your name… I believe you have told it to me, perhaps more than once, but my mind seems a bit fuzzy."

"It's Sherlock." An abrupt voice came from the doorway. Lilly looked over to see a petite woman standing there looking in at them with a look that could be irritation or jealousy, or both. Lilly sighed inwardly; of course, she must be his wife or something. The first time in so long, well actually ever, she found herself really physically attracted to a man and he would be taken. The woman walked into the room and came to a stop about 3 feet from the bed. Then she smiled at Lilly warmly and said, "I'm Molly."

"Ah, yes, forgive me…" the man named Sherlock did a mock bow of his head, then continued, "Lady Lill – um, Lilly, may I present Dr. Molly Hooper. Molly…Lilly. Now that we have the pleasantries complete, could we perhaps get down to business here?"

"Don't mind him, Lilly. He's always like this." Molly smiled at Lilly, and then turned her attention with a frown to Sherlock. "I thought you were going to get some medical supplies for me? I need to assess Lilly's injuries."

"Yet, I must go out shortly, and it is essential to have some answers before I do. So, questions, then assessment, agreed?" Sherlock scowled at her.

"Agreed, get your answers, but make it quick, after that find me some of John's gear, followed by preparing some tea and toast for Lilly. After that you can go out." Molly sassed back at him. Lilly was finding the interplay quite interesting. Yes, interesting but tiring. Throughout all this back and forth, Lilly continued just lying there with her head on the pillow that smelled like Sherlock. Her head was still throbbing and she didn't think she could sit up without getting giddy. Mostly though, she thought she rather liked Dr. Molly.

Sherlock turned his attention away from Molly and focused it completely on Lilly once again, rattling off questions rapid fire at her. "Who knew your plans for the day? Your schedule, timeframes, etc. Does your driver have a regular place that he goes to wait for you? Don't answer that, of course he does. Who is aware of his normal movements? What possible relevance does Reigate have, aside from being your mother's burial site?" At those words, Molly stepped forward and laid her hand on Lilly's forehead, in a comforting gesture. Sherlock continued to stare at Lilly as if to drag the answers he wanted directly from her mind and not have to wait for her to actually speak. At the reminder of the cemetery, Lilly's wits seemed to scatter. Sherlock read the anxiety in her face and decided to alter his approach. "Tell me about your family."

"Sherlock, the poor girl is in shock, can't you see that?" Molly interrupted, grabbing his arm and pulling him from the bed and out the door toward the kitchen. "As her _doctor_, I will have to insist that you stop badgering her for the time being. Go get me some equipment and I'll start the assessment. And don't forget the tea, heavy on the sugar."

"Fine." He grumbled, heading down the short hallway to the kitchen, and calling back over his shoulder, "but I will need my coat back." He was quite sure that he could figure out the answers he needed without Lilly anyway. He just had to get in touch with Ramona.

"Go!" Molly glared at his back before she shut the door and turned to begin checking Lilly's condition. Once she got her out of Sherlock's coat and gave some thought to how she had come to be in Sherlock's coat wearing only knickers and a bra, which she quickly put out of her head, she determined that Lilly was not in too bad of condition in spite of her ordeal.

The sedative was wearing off, Lilly was still a bit drowsy, but she was coherent, her thought process seemed to be working well and she was able to speak clearly. The biggest concern that Molly could see was the headache, which was most likely a result of the drug she had been given, but there was always the possibility of an interior head trauma. She could find no exterior damage to the head. Her body temp was near normal; her range of motion was good. Her pupils were equal and reactive. Her reflexes were good. There were abrasions on the ankles and a bit of oozing with some slight residual blood loss, but no active bleeding. She took a minute to admire Sherlock's handy work. He wasn't a half bad nurse. The bandaging was neat and careful. All things considered, Molly was glad that Lilly seemed to have escaped much physical injury. However, the ordeal she had been through would no doubt leave mental and emotional scarring.

She was just thinking about getting Lilly out of her underthings and maybe into a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt of Sherlock's, so she could tuck her back under the covers, when the bedroom door flew open, followed by Sherlock barging in with a tray of tea and toast. Molly's mouth opened with shock. Sherlock makes tea? And toast? He was actually listening to her?

"Do please close your mouth, Molly; it is not really a good mien for you." He said as he set the tray down on the chest of drawers.

Lilly, who was sitting on the bed still in just her underthings, gasped a bit in surprise at his unexpected entrance, and tried to cover herself as much as possible with her hands. He glanced over at her and frowned slightly as if he couldn't understand what she was so obviously anxious about. It was not as if he had not been observing her attired thus all night.

"I will need your garments for analysis as soon as possible. Here are some things you can change into," he said opening a drawer and pulling out, wonder of wonders, a pair of sweatpants and a tee, tossing them in the general direction of the bed. He waited patiently, as if to assume that Lilly would just take off her knickers and bra and hand them over to him, much to her dismay and Molly's crossness. Sherlock apparently was oblivious to both. "Is there a problem?"

"Sherlock! Wait outside, please." Molly glared at him, surprised when she saw the sly smile he gave her in return, along with a wink. He had actually been teasing the both of them. A chuckle trailed over his shoulder as he went out the door. She laughed in spite of herself, "Sod off, you nutter."

"Umm," Lilly hesitated, thinking about all that she had laid on, been put in and what not and realised that all she really wanted was a good soak in the bath. "Would it be possible to have a bath? I feel a bit…"

"Oh, gosh! Of course, you would want to get cleaned up. What was I thinking?" Molly looked around the room as if expecting a bathtub to have appeared suddenly. She started to call down the hallway, but Sherlock had returned and stuck his head through the doorway. "Where is the bath?"

"It's in the next room. But, Molly, have you completely ruled out the potential of trace DNA in the unlikely event of sexual assault?" As he said this, Lilly's body became tense. It wasn't something she had even considered. She would know, wouldn't she? "You should at the very least take some swabs."

"I will. Do you have something comparable I can use?" Sherlock leant in and handed Molly a small box he had liberated from John's room. "Oh, thanks."

"I am going out soon, so before you start the bath, I must go over a few things with you, Molly. And of course you also, Lilly. You may wish to write these down, but do not lose the notes, and once I return, I will dispose of them securely, as I do not desire them to fall into the wrong hands." This statement brought a look of mystification to both Molly and Lilly's faces. What was he going on about? Sherlock then handed Molly a pen and pad of paper if she wished to take the afore mentioned notes. But of course, he spoke quickly and she knew she wouldn't be able to write that fast.

"Clearly, there are certain points in the house where you should not go. The doors are closed, locked and there shouldn't be a need in any case, but be sure to avoid them: cupboard, end of the hall, first floor; last room, very top of stairs, right side; cupboard, kitchen, right side of sink; wooden door, cellar, left side. Now about the stairs going up to John's room: avoid right side of third step, left side of sixth step. Avoid the steps going up to the loft altogether. Windows: do not attempt to open the one in my bedroom; center one in John's bedroom; the one in the kitchen or any in lounge. When I leave, I will activate some deterrents on the ground floor level as well, so you may just wish to remain on this floor. Questions? No? Excellent!" Concluding the brisk discourse, Sherlock smiled wickedly into the ensuing silence, before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

Lilly looked over at Molly and said with a tinge of awe in her voice, "That man is as mad as a bag of ferrets, isn't he?" Molly could only agree.

* * *

**A/N:** The title of this chapter _Cui Bono_, refers to a Latin phrase meaning "_To whose benefit_?", which suggests a hidden motive or indicates that the person or persons behind a crime may not be who it appears to be. I rather thought it fit nicely here, as this is in fact the question on Sherlock's mind as he has been composing his theories of the case.

To all the lovely people who have been following this story, thank you so much and I'd hug you all, but that would be perhaps weird and is in fact, physically impossible, but still, I would if I could.

Also, I would like to thank Scarlett for her awesome review of chapter 8, and in answer to her question of when will John be coming home: I'm fairly sure it will be in the next day or so (within the story line), he really hasn't said, but I expect him soon, and I have a feeling that he will be in for a bit of a surprise when he does finally show up.

_Once again, I cannot possibly live in a vacuum. Please don't leave me in the vacuum of review-less-ness. Hoover over and review! _


	10. Gathering the Threads

**Chapter 10 – Gathering the Threads**

_In which Sherlock gets his data and works it._

A lovely dawn was breaking over London when Sherlock entered 221B once more. A dawn that he didn't notice as his mind was focused on arranging the information that he had received from Ramona. She was one of most observant of his homeless network, and if she described something to him, it was always spot on. Not only had she witnessed the actual abduction, along with the pre and post activities related to it, and could describe the perpetrator down to a small scar on his chin, she caught the number plate from the saloon car with the oil leak. That information was passed on to another and though Sherlock suspected that the vehicle had been stolen purpose use for the abduction, it might still lead to information on the abductor if someone else saw him steal it. Sherlock smiled smugly to himself. The word was out in his network, and though for now it was a waiting game, it would be only a matter time before he had his man. Even though the abductor was not the instigator in all of this, it was one step closer to the real guilty party. Sherlock had a couple of theories on that subject as well.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Sherlock reached the door at the top of the stairs just as Molly poked her head around the jam and they collided. He reached out quickly to catch her before she could fall, and then, still with his hands on her waist, supporting her weight, he slowly bent her over his arms into a dip as if it was the big finish in a dance sequence. Once Molly could breathe again, she got the uncontrollable giggles and smacked his arm playfully. "Who are you and what've you done with Sherlock?"

"The threads, Molly, the ends are nearly within my grasp!" Spontaneously, in his excitement, he pecked a quick kiss onto her forehead before he released her. Confused at the unusual display of affection from him, she looked down at the floor and self-consciously pulled on the bottom of her jumper.

"I take it your source was helpful?" Molly followed him into the kitchen and after automatically pouring him a cup of coffee, black, two sugars, she joined him at the table.

"Extremely so! There is nothing in the world like my network, Molly! Pieces are slipping into place and I do believe this conundrum to be imminently resolvable."

"So what's the solution?" She couldn't help asking just to annoy him for putting her through all that daft business in the doorway. She deemed it mostly successful based on the scowl he gave her over the rim of his cup. Naturally, he didn't answer. "So, I have to, you know, start my shift at work in about an hour. And um, I still have to get to my flat to feed Toby…"

"No." Sherlock turned his attention to contemplating his thoughts.

"Well, yeah, I um, do. He needs to eat." Molly was trying to think of an easy way to remove herself from Sherlock's flat so she could get on with her own life. Not that she wanted to leave Lilly here to fend for herself, because goodness knows, you couldn't rely on Sherlock if he got all wrapped up in his 'mind palace', but she had a job and a cat depending on her. She had already decided that she would come back after her shift to check on Lilly. "So, um, I really need to go now, Sherlock."

"No. Did you not hear me? Oh, Molly, Molly, you listen but you do not hear." Sherlock sat back in his chair and began staring at the ceiling. "Toby has been taken care of. But your job. Yes. You will need to leave shortly."

"What are you going on about? What about Toby?"

Her words got through his thoughts and he looked over at her. "I stopped by your flat on my way to meet with Ramona. It was actually right down the street. No trouble."

"You went to my flat? How did you get in? I have the keys right here in my pocket." She narrowed her eyes and glared over at Sherlock, "What did you do to Toby? If you've hurt him…"

"Really, Molly. If you must know. You are in need of a more secure bedroom window. It was child's play. Toby was fed. I fed him. He seemed to enjoy it. After partaking, he proceeded to recline on your divan and clean his unmentionables. Fascinating!" Sherlock resumed his preoccupation with the ceiling, adding distractedly, "You seemed concerned before I left. As you were assisting me, I merely returned the favour. Quite simple."

Molly was speechless. Sherlock watched her face with his peripheral vision and was pleased. John would be proud of him, being so human. Sherlock did not find it extremely tedious to be kind to Molly occasionally, as he was rather fond of his pathologist in a way. Alas, that same fondness did not always keep him from being intermittently cruel. Human emotions were so very inexplicable.

"Oh. Okay. Thanks. I, um, should probably get going then."

She stood up and leant over, giving Sherlock a quick kiss on his cheek, which surprised both of them, as well as Lilly, who was standing unnoticed in the hallway. She silently slipped back into Sherlock's room to avoid embarrassing either of them. A few minutes later, Molly came in to say goodbye and tell her that she would be back later after work. The two women hugged and Lilly thanked Molly for everything that she had done. Honestly, she wasn't sure that she could have gotten through the night without Molly's reassuring presence. Molly encouraged Lilly to lay back down and rest, shutting the door behind her as she left. Lilly lay in Sherlock's bed and thought about the nature of Molly's relationship with the man.

Earlier when she had spoken to Molly about what her relationship was to Sherlock, she had been pleased to find out that they were just friends. After watching them in the kitchen, she wondered if it was true. Obviously, Molly had some feelings for Sherlock. Lilly was torn between her quickly developed affection for Molly Hooper and the strong attraction that she herself was feeling toward Sherlock, which was further complicated by her current predicament. She could not do anything to hurt Molly's feelings, full stop. There was also the problem of not being exactly sure what the proper behaviour should be toward a man who first rescues you and then hides you in his flat to keep you safe. They had not covered this situation in etiquette class, unfortunately. But Lilly was a Lady and needs must. On that thought, she drifted into sleep.

7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%

A few hours later, she awoke with her body aching, and her heart sick. Lilly still had no idea why all of this was happening. Who could possibly have wanted to hurt her or her family? She got out of bed slowly as the cold from the day before had made her muscles stiff and tender. Heading down the hallway to the kitchen, it seemed to her that the flat was empty of anyone but her. It was silent as a tomb. She cringed away from that thought quickly. Passing through the kitchen, she continued into the lounge. No one anywhere. Where was Sherlock? Molly said that he would stay with her while she was asleep. She was just turning around to head back into the kitchen for a drink of water when she saw him. He was lying completely still on the sofa. His eyes were closed, but his hands were in what looked like a prayer position by his lips. She assumed he was either asleep or devout, the latter seeming unlikely. She cleared her throat just to see if he was awake. His eyes flew open and he sat up quickly, but seemed a bit removed. Then he focused on her.

She stammered, "I'm sorry. I disturbed you."

"I was thinking. Do you require assistance with something?" Sherlock stood and walked directly over to her, looming again. Why did it always seem like he was looming?

"Oh, may I ask what you were you thinking about?" Lilly had to tilt her head back painfully to look up at his face. After a pause, and much to Lilly's relief, Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace around the room.

"I am trying to determine the object of this game. Are you a pawn or are you the queen? Are you to be sacrificed or captured? When I know that, I will know all."

"What do you mean, pawn or queen?"

"If the point of all this was to use you to get to someone else, then, my dear you are just a lowly pawn. A means to an end, as it were. If you personally are the target, then you are the queen, and the object is in essence to 'capture' you. To identify your position in this game is to begin to grasp the thread of motive."

"Well, then I must be a pawn. There is no reason for anyone to think that I am a threat in anyway. I live a quiet life, Sherlock. I don't have dangerous associates; I don't even have many friends. Nothing in my life is remotely interesting."

"Ah, well, I would be more inclined to agree with your assessment were it not for the more troubling characteristics of your abduction that are so distinctively personal. Those aspects argue to queen." His pacing had led him full circle to stand in front of her once more. Looking down at her, his eyes went unfocused for a minute or so, and Lilly wondered if he had forgotten she was there, when he suddenly refocused his sharp gaze directly into her eyes. He murmured under his breath, but still loud enough for Lilly to hear, "Who despises you so? It is the only question which answers all the facts."

* * *

I would like to thank my AwesomeAsh for her design of the book cover, just lovely, and really captures the idea behind the story.

Thank you again, Scarlett for your lovely comment! I'm glad I could make your day. Reviews make my day so we have much in common. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, which I wore simultaneously with Chapter 11. We are getting to the meat of the story now, and I'm very excited about what's coming up.

Once again, I cannot possibly exist in a vacuum. Please review. - RS


	11. Lestrade Gets a Lead

**Chapter 11 – Lestrade Gets a Lead**

_In which the team goes over what they have, which isn't much._

DI Lestrade was sitting at his desk the day following the Fairfax Abduction. He was waiting on Donovan and Anderson for a meeting in his office to go over what they had turned up with the forensic tests, where they were with any possible enemies of Lord Henry's, and what they had turned up on Lady Lillian's personal life. Looking over the overnight reports from the constables who had been out canvasing the neighborhood, he groaned aloud. Nothing, no one saw anything, or if they did, they weren't talking to the police.

He was wishing he could consult with Sherlock, if ever he needed some help, this was it. He couldn't get out of the back of his mind that if they didn't find this girl soon, they were going to be too late, and it never got easier to deal with the failure he felt when he didn't get to a victim in time. Just the thought of what that poor girl might be going through…

Donovan walked in with Anderson close on her heels. Lestrade waited until they were seated then waved his hand for them to begin their reports, he really didn't care who went first. He didn't have much hope for anything at this point, to be completely honest. But he had to at least go through the motions. Sally opened her notebook and began.

"Ok. So the people we had out looking for leads or witnesses have come up empty. No one saw anything out of the ordinary yesterday. It appears that the bloke is invisible and can make his victims invisible as well." She paused to roll her eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation. "On the home front, Lord Henry doesn't appear to have any enemies per say, or not more than any other peer of the realm. By the way, he actually is a heredity peer, and was voted in as such to the House of Lords in 1980. Last year, he was involved in using the building for a private function, which was a minor scandal compared to the Lobbying scandals, but he wasn't found to be involved in that investigation.

"You said to look into everything with the family, so I dragged the pond on this one: Lord Henry was married to Adele nee Hastings for 20 years prior to her death from natural causes, in May of 2003. Apparently, she had been ill with flu like illness, which led to a secondary infection and that caused her death. Lady Lillian was 15 years old at the time of her mother's death. In December of 2003, he married Constance nee Henley, the widow of Richard Burke, who died in 2001 in a climbing accident, he was a sport climber apparently, and left one daughter, Victoria. They have all been living in complete bliss for the last 10 years. Well, according to Lady Constance. So nothing there."

"What about Lady Lillian's personal life?"

"She doesn't have one. Believe me I looked. According to her stepmother and sister, she doesn't date, really has never had a steady relationship with anyone. She is not gay, and she doesn't appear to be interested in anyone. So no jealous or controlling boyfriend. Most of her time is spent at home when she's not out doing "good works". She volunteers at a couple of charities, King's College Hospital Charity, Bishopsgate Institute, and the Reigate Priory Museum Society, but nothing that would take her into any rough areas of the city. And she sits on a couple of fundraising committees for different children's charities. She has her own business, dealing in old books and rare manuscripts, mostly through a website, though she does have a shop. Apparently, she owns it, but doesn't work there. She has a manager that runs that end of it. Also, she inherited money from her mother, so she doesn't have to work. Nothing in all of that explains why she went missing." Sally came to the end of her summary and looked over at Anderson.

"So, well, we got back the results on the driver's blood test and the fluid that was on the front seat looks like it was Midazolam, which is a fast acting sedative, and is a Class C controlled drug. Its water soluble and lipid soluble so it's fast acting, say less than 90 seconds. Based on the driver's experience, it was injected intramuscularly. The only drawback being it doesn't last very long. Fairly easy to get ahold of if you know where to go. Common enough. As for other trace evidence, not much. A few hairs belonging to the victim, some clothing fibers we are still working on, and no fingerprints that we haven't been able to eliminate. And that's it."

Lestrade leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Then he leaned forward to say something to his team, but he was interrupted by his phone. Picking it up, he growled into the receiver, "What?"

He listened intently for a minute or two, and then said, "Get her an escort and get her down here, now!"

Turning to Donovan and Anderson, he smiled widely and said, "Victoria Burke is here. She apparently has gotten a text with some information she thinks we might be interested in seeing."

Three minutes later, the stepsister of the missing woman was walking through the door of his office. Anderson jumped up and offered her his chair, grinning like a twit in Donovan's opinion.

"What can I do for you, Ms. Burke? I understand that you have some additional information for me?"

"Yes, Inspector Lestrade. I wasn't sure who I should speak to regarding this, you or Sargent Donovan." She smiled sweetly at Anderson as she took his chair and handed her mobile over to Lestrade. "It may be just a joke or something, but I don't know, it might be important. Someone, I don't know who, the sender info is blocked, sent me a text saying that they know were Lilly is and then a list of what looks to me to be GPS coordinates."

Lestrade took the mobile, looked at the text she had open for him to see, and began copying the numbers down on a note pad. "Donovan, you have a GPS thingy on your mobile don't you? Look this up for me."

As he rattled off the coordinates, Sally had a sinking feeling that she had seen those numbers before. Like last night. The weird text. This couldn't be happening to her. Bollocks! She had information, and she didn't even know it? Lestrade was going to be furious with her! The display was showing an area in Reigate.

"Got it?" Lestrade asked. Sally was looking a little pale all of the sudden. Maybe it wasn't a lead, but a joke or something. Then she nodded and handed him her mobile. "Well, let's go."

"Perhaps I could come along? If it is where Lilly is, then she may need a familiar face." Victoria stepped in front of Lestrade as he stood and made his way to the door, resting her hand on his arm. He wasn't too sure, depending on the condition the missing woman was in, if it would be a good idea to have a family member there. In the end he agreed and they headed out, after informing the police in Reigate where to meet them and requesting medical personnel to be on hand in the event that Lady Lillian needed some attention.

Thirty minutes later, they discovered they were late for the party. The place was a small stone building in the middle of Reigate Cemetery and it was empty. Not just empty in the way that all buildings are when no one is there, but empty in the way that someone had been there but was not now. It was clean. Too clean. The doors had been wiped clean of fingerprints; some kind of material had been dragged through the dust in the hallway and the room on the end. Other than assorted fibers, the only thing Anderson found that was remotely interesting was a smear of what appeared to be vomit in the middle of the room.

Lestrade grabbed his hair with his hands and blew out a heavy breath. Now what? He didn't relish going out to the stepsister and admitting that they lost her sister. His instincts told him that this was the place where Lady Lillian was held. But God only knew, or maybe Sherlock could figure out, where she could be now. DI Greg Lestrade knew one thing for sure…that he didn't have a clue. Heaven help 'em.

* * *

A/N: I just wanted to thank the people who are following this story. I really appreciate the support.

Just a heads up, the next chapter is going to be taking Sherlock and Lilly into new territory. I'm taking a bit of time with it as I want to get it as believable as I can while keeping Sherlock in character. It will also bring out some of the more direct points of the mystery of who is behind the abduction and forces Lilly to confront what she doesn't what to believe.

Once again, I will exist in a vacuum if I'm forced to, but it's really lonely. By this point you must realize that I will continue writing with or without reviews, so yes, you caught me out on that threat. All I can say is, bugger that you cheeky monkeys, review!


	12. Argues to Queen

**Chapter 12 – Argues to Queen**

_In which Sherlock explains his reasoning and Lilly gets emotional._

The words that Sherlock had said kept repeating again and again in Lilly's head. _"Who despises you so? It is the only question which answers all the facts." _It was too much to process. Her mind screamed no one despises me! After pulling the terra firma out from under Lilly's life, Sherlock tugged on the bottom of his suit coat to straighten it, which also served to focus himself mentally, then calmly went through to the kitchen and sat down in front of a microscope and began analysing slides. She watched him for several minutes, then followed him into the kitchen and came to a stop next to the worktop at his elbow, standing there staring at the side of his face. He finally pulled away from the eye pieces and glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes?" He asked, clearly impatient with her staring at him. Sitting back on the stool, he smiled a tad smugly. "Ah, you have questions."

"What did you mean by 'the more troubling characteristics of your abduction that are so distinctively personal'?" Lilly looked so troubled, Sherlock felt a peculiar feeling welling up in his chest. He wasn't completely familiar with what it was, but he thought possibly it was a bit of empathy. Kind-heartedness, perhaps. An unexpected sensation for someone who is repeatedly told he does not actually possess a heart. To camouflage his uncertainty, he took off his suit jacket and began rolling up the sleeves of his dark blue dress shirt. He was very proud of the fact that it appeared as if he had planned to remove his jacket all along. She asked again, almost in a whisper, "What was personal?"

"Lilly, my dear, how would you describe yourself? Along the lines of personality."

Lilly looked at him as if he was crazy or confused. "You want me to describe myself?"

Sherlock nodded at her, so she began, "I tend to be quiet…"Sherlock waved his hand to encourage her to continue, "I'm kind of shy-"

"Precisely!" In his excitement, Sherlock thrust his hand in the air, finger pointed at the ceiling. Then he lowered it to point directly at Lilly, shaking it a bit. "Shy. Introverted. Proper. So not likely the type of person who would enjoy being seen in their underthings by a room filled with strangers. You were extremely discomfited to be seen by me. One person. Imagine what you would feel with an entire police team invading that place."

"Embarrassment. Humiliation. Mortification." Lilly looked at the floor while she said this, tugging self-consciously on the hem of the tee shirt she was wearing and remembering that she had not wanted to put the sweat pants on again when she got up, as they had been so long in the leg, she was constantly tripping on them. Luckily, the shirt was long enough to cover her down to several inches above the knee. So here she was, once again, barely dressed in front of Sherlock Holmes. She sighed and tugged a little bit more, but it was only going to cover so much, so she gave up.

"Indeed. You were given water and a thin blanket. So some comfort, but not really. Left in the cold and the dark. Drugged. Disoriented. Ankles bound, but not hands. So you could not walk, but you could crawl…what does that suggest to you?"

"Degradation. Indignity. Shame." Lilly focused sharply on Sherlock's face and realised that she was feeling all those emotions again, just hearing him describe it.

"Quite." Sherlock paused to make sure that he had Lilly's complete attention. "Personal."

"All of that could have been done to make me uncomfortable, without shame involved, so it doesn't prove it was personal, Sherlock. It could still be aimed at my father."

"Valid point." He paused, as if considering the likelihood, then continued with the two words that he knew made it personal, "Reigate Cemetery."

Lilly shook her head, "That still could mean it was directed at my father."

"Do you really believe that? Think. Use your mind. Would your father be more upset if you were found there as opposed to a potting shed in Nottingham? Be honest, Lilly… If this was aimed at your father, why would his enemies bother with tying in a location which is of great significance to you, but not necessarily of any importance to him? No. I am sorry, but it argues to queen."

Lilly didn't answer, her eyes filled with tears and she knew he was right. Who _despised _her? Someone loathed her enough to want to see her humiliated, degraded to the point of crawling around on her hands and knees, half naked and in vomit none the less. Someone was playing a horrid game with her. She was afraid, muddled and not a little bit angry. Unconsciously looking for reassurance, Lilly rested her head against his upper arm with a sniffle. Without thinking about what he was doing, Sherlock shifted sideways on the stool, wrapped his arms around her and drew her close between his legs so she was nestled up against him. He was taken by surprise at how nicely she tucked under his chin, and he observed again how very small she seemed. Then he reflected on what he was doing. This, this…_affection_! It was not like him. Still, he could not seem to compel his arms release her. So, with a pivotal choice, he decided to let some _feeling_ in, and take pleasure in holding Lilly, if just for a little while.

Sherlock was aware that she was agitated, so he began rubbing his palms in circles on her back. He had seen John do this with other people and that seemed to make them feel better. Strangely, the motion appeared to relax him also. Curious that. He was so involved in analysing the cause and effect of the motion on both parties, that he didn't notice that Lilly's hands had moved up to twine in the hair at his collar. He suddenly became conscious of her arms around his neck and looked down into her upturned face. Her lips were parted slightly and her eyes were dilated. She was looking directly at him. Attraction? The idea intrigued him and he found himself leaning down and placing his lips on hers, softly at first, then when he felt her respond, he pressed a bit harder. It felt strange, but rather lovely at the same time. Then she moaned into his mouth and he stopped thinking at all.

Neither one of them was aware of time passing; they were wholly caught up in the kiss. Sherlock had settled one of his hands on Lilly's waist to anchor her in place; the other was cupping her jaw, while his thumb caressed her cheek. Lilly for her part was pressed as close to Sherlock as she could possibly be, her hands behind his head, pulling him toward her and tangling in his curls. They were so lost in each other that they did not hear a thing except the beating of each other's hearts.

"So this is what happens when I leave for a few days, eh?"

At the sound of John's voice, Sherlock let go of the girl so quickly that she would have stumbled backward had he not grabbed her arms to hold her steady. They were both wearing dazed expressions and John noted that their lips were rather swollen, so he _deduced_ that they had been at it for a while before he interrupted. He chuckled a bit and shook his head. Sherlock. Kissing…a girl… or anyone for that matter…it boggled the mind. This was Mr. Married to his Work, Mr. Doesn't Do Emotion, Mr. Pain in the Arse, caught in the act of…acting human. Ha!

He took a good look at the girl, he didn't recognise her, but he did notice she was pretty, with long reddish hair, green eyes, and thoroughly kissed lips. Also, he couldn't help noticing that she wasn't wearing anything other than one of Sherlock's tee shirts. Interesting, that. Curvy little body. Nice legs. Bandages around her ankles… Hmmm. What had he missed? What all had gone on while he was away? He laughed to himself as he decided that he _would_ get to the bottom of this one. Sherlock could run, but he couldn't hide, at least not forever, not from John.

* * *

A/N: John's back. Yay! Sherlock's doing unexpected things. Ooh! And I do believe that Lilly is falling in love. Ahh! Well...what do you think?

I would like to welcome all the new followers to this story. And thank all of those who are continuing to follow it.

Thank you, geekydancer4935 for your review on Chapter 11! And yes, please review more than once, twice, or more times! It's allowed. I'd love everyone to review after every chapter. It's my dream. So thanks for keeping the vacuum at bay.

_So long and thanks for all the fish! Oh, Douglas, you are missed._


	13. Incidentals and Alleyways

**Chapter 13 – Incidentals and Alleyways**

_In which John gets brought up to date and the abductor is located._

Sherlock observed the way that John was looking at Lilly, an expression on his face rather like when he looks at those images of scantily clad women that he has on his laptop. It then occurred to him that Lilly was not properly dressed. At that thought, another of these foreign emotions built in his chest, and with quick precise movement, he plucked his suit jacket off the counter, dropped it over Lilly's shoulders and managed to slide her over to his other side, so he was between them.

John chuckled knowingly, which irritated Sherlock, as he was feeling a bit clueless about this whole Lilly situation. And he hated feeling clueless, so he swung back to face the microscope and decided to show off what he did have a clue about.

"Midazolam." He stated bluntly. He took in the confused look on John's face and decided to really fluster him in an attempt to get John's mind off what he thought he had walked into. "Really, John, as a medical doctor, I would think that you would be familiar with the name. Midazolam. Short-acting drug in the benzodiazepine class. Rapid onset of action. High effectiveness yet low toxicity level. It possesses profoundly potent anxiolytic, amnestic, hypnotic, anticonvulsant, skeletal muscle relaxant, and sedative properties."

"What are you going on about, Sherlock? What does Midazolam have to do with anything?" John shook his head and tried to catch Lilly's eye over Sherlock's shoulder. He really was curious about this woman, so naturally, Sherlock had to get all technical and try to change the subject. But John wasn't having any of that. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your lady friend?"

"Fine. Lady Lillian Fairfax, Dr. John Watson. John, Lilly. Happy?" Sherlock smiled his bright cheeky insincere smile at John.

"It's very nice to meet you, Dr. Watson."

Lilly looked around Sherlock's shoulder to smile shyly at John, who smiled widely back at her and was about to say something, when Lilly interrupted him to excuse herself, claiming fatigue, heading back to Sherlock's bedroom and shutting the door. She was embarrassed to have been intruded upon in that condition but still enjoying very much the tingle on her lips from the kiss. It occurred to her that, finally at the age of twenty five, she had her first ever proper kiss. Sherlock's voice came through the door and she smiled. Poor Dr. Watson. It seemed as if Sherlock hadn't cared for the intrusion either and the good doctor would be paying the price.

"So, Doctor Watson. Lipid soluble? What does that suggest to you in terms of a sedative? Hmm?"

"Fast acting. Do we really have to talk about sedative properties right now?" John put his hand out, index finger pointing toward Sherlock to stop him from interrupting. Then continued, waving his hand around a bit, "I just came in the damn door, after only being gone two days mind you, to find you, Sherlock, in a lip lock with a beautiful woman, and you want to talk about sedatives? Really Sherlock? Because I think I'd much rather hear the story on Lilly instead."

John stood up straight with his arms folded across his chest, eye brows raised expectantly, his very body language shouting: Tell me everything right now, I'm not taking no for an answer.

"So. No luck with the lady doctors then. Pity." Sherlock said with mock sympathy and a sad smile.

"Actually…well, no. Not really." Now John was flustered. He dropped his arms to his sides and began to look a bit sheepish. Then he remembered to be annoyed with Sherlock and scowled at him. How could he tell that? Must just be guessing, right, never guesses…must have deduced. Ha! "You are not going to get me off the subject, Sherlock. You are going to tell me the story of that lovely young lady."

"This is the story of that young lady." Sherlock tilted his head a bit to the side and regarded John. Very quietly he asked, "Beautiful? Lovely? Do you really think so, or are you just saying that because you know she can hear you?"

"She can hear us?" John asked equally quietly. He looked down the hallway at the closed bedroom door. "The door's closed."

"Of course she can hear. She is listening at the door." Sherlock said in his normal voice and they both heard the dull thud of Lilly jumping back from the door. Sherlock winked at John and they both broke out in chuckles.

"Ah, John…it is good to have you home. So. Lipid soluble. Allowing it to go through the brain barrier quickly, fast action, but not long ranging. If one needed to keep someone sedated for more than 10 minutes, not good. Which brings us to this," Sherlock held up the slide he had been analysing before…um…Indeed. He cleared his throat. "Temazepam."

In spite of his wanting to get Sherlock back on the subject of Lilly, John felt himself pulled into the narrative. "An intermediate-acting 3-hydroxy; orally administrated, it has rapid absorption, long ranging effect, 8 or 9 hours. Class C drug, controlled substance. Prone to abuse. Street names: temazies, tammies, temmies, beans, eggs, knockouts, no-gos to name a few. Why, again, are we talking about this?"

"It also is detectible within stomach acid." Sherlock gestured with the slide again. "Have you not been paying attention, John? Sedatives. Short and long acting. Both prescription Class C drugs. Both also fairly accessible on the street. Oh, please, must I spell it out for you?"

"That might be helpful, as I have no idea what you are talking about. I've been away, Sherlock. Surely you noticed that no one was here to make you tea?" With that, John gave Sherlock a cheeky grin.

"Sarcasm does not go well with that jumper you are wearing, John. You may wish to rethink it." Sherlock smiled a bit at the sight of John looking down in irritation at his clothes. "Much has gone on since you decided to absent yourself from Baker Street. I must say it was most inconvenient for me when I was forced to take care of Lady Lillian at the expense of the investigation. Really very thoughtless of you, John."

"Take care of Lilly? Investigation? Are you saying that Lilly is a case?"

"Oh good. There is a very nice echo in this room." Sherlock rolled his eyes toward the ceiling with disdain. "Yes John. She was abducted approximately 28 hours ago, drugged, and left in a stone building within the confines of The Reigate Cemetery. I received various bits of information which led me to the location where I found her. Had Molly not been available to assist me…"

"Molly? You took Molly with you?" John felt a twinge of jealousy flare. Funny how the thought of Sherlock taking Molly with him on a case bothered him. Relax John, he told himself, you're not getting replaced by Molly.

"No. I did however make use of her car. She was of great assistance to me after I returned to Baker Street with Lilly, who was in need of medical attention. As it was not in her best interests to involve the police and assorted medical personnel, it was…"

"Wait. Wait right there, Sherlock. Are you telling me that the police aren't involved in this investigation? You haven't called in Lestrade? Anyone?" John paced to the door of the flat and back to the kitchen, running his hands through his hair. He looked sternly at Sherlock. "Please tell me that you have called Lestrade. Why would you not involve the police, Sherlock? I can't believe you! If she was abducted…My god, Sherlock! That's a serious crime."

"They are all serious crimes, John. I did not say that Lestrade was not involved in an investigation into the abduction, just that he is not involved in mine. To the best of my knowledge, Scotland Yard is investigating the matter and working closely with the Fairfax family and members of the household. Which is exactly why I am not."

"You think this has something to do with her family? That someone in her family or someone close to the family is involved in the abduction?" Sherlock could almost see the light go on over John's head, which began nodding up and down as understanding dawned. "Ah. And you are trying to keep her safe by hiding her."

"Good, John. You are finally using your mind. Yes. I believe that someone very close to Lilly is behind all of this."

"And the sedatives are a major clue?" John was very pleased that he had followed Sherlock's train of thought with the whole sedative thing.

"No. Of course not." Sherlock wrinkled his nose a bit, as if John had suddenly begun to smell bad, instead of just missing the point. Again. John shook his head and wondered why he even tried to figure out where his flat mate was going in that head of his. Sherlock sighed long and loud, before continuing, "They are merely another bit of information to file away. Both drugs could have been obtained through legal or illegal means. Which might help, or might not. If one of the household has access to one or both, it doesn't really prove anything. Motive, John. We need to answer the question of motive. Then we will know who is behind this. I have a very strong suspicion, but I need to give it further thought."

Sherlock moved into the lounge and threw himself down on the sofa, staring at the ceiling with his fingertips together, resting them on his lips. John realised that he might be going to his mind palace and if so, he might not get any information from him for a while, so before Sherlock could get too into it, John loudly asked, "Has she eaten recently? You have fed her, right, Sherlock? And what about her injuries? Are they serious?"

As John was asking, a text came through on Sherlock's mobile. He slipped it out of his pocket and read the display. Finally. The text that he had been waiting for. His homeless network had identified the abductor.

**Found tosser: Donny Thomas. Home address if needed. Petty crimes, assaults, sometime drug dealer. Not as nasty as could be. Tailed to pub off Coldharbour Lane in Brixton. Thomas inside playing pool. Continue tail? Advise. - Bix**

Bix was one of the more reliable in the network, and Sherlock knew he would keep an eye on him as long as he was needed. But why keep the man waiting.

**Stay. Will Come. 10 mins. Meet in front. Require use of your jacket. – SH**

"I have to go out." Sherlock slipped his mobile into the pocket of his shirt, walked over to the doorway and started pulling on his coat. John looked up sharply at Sherlock's blunt statement, and got up to grab his own jacket.

"No. John, you have to stay here with Lilly. Do some doctor things or what have you. She may be hungry. I don't think she has had anything to eat or drink since Molly was here this morning. She likes tea, two sugars, I believe. Perhaps toast with some of that marmalade. I will return as soon as possible." Sherlock appeared distracted as he looped his scarf around his neck.

For some reason, the way Sherlock was acting was making the hairs on the back of John's neck stand up. Something wasn't right. Something about Sherlock was off. But John couldn't figure out what. "Where are you going? You said Molly was coming back after her shift, can't it wait for her to get here and then I'll come with you."

"It would be best that you do not come with me, John." The expression on Sherlock's face was one that John hadn't seen before, but it didn't look friendly. In fact, John thought it was a bit scary looking. What he said next had John wondering, not for the first time, if Sherlock could actually read his mind. "Trust me. You don't want to know."

John stood, staring at the closed door that Sherlock had just walked through and thought that maybe Sherlock was right, it might just be best if he didn't know where he was going, who he was going to see and more to the point, what he planned to do once he got there. Shaking his head, he turned into the kitchen and set about making Lilly some tea and looking for the marmalade.

7%7%7%7%7%7%

Bix was waiting outside the pub on Coldharbour Lane when Sherlock walked by him and headed into the alleyway. Bix followed him without a word, unbuttoning his jacket as he went. By the time he turned into the alleyway, Sherlock had removed his coat and was holding it out, along with some £20 notes, which Bix accepted with a bow, handing his jacket over to Sherlock.

"You need your back covered? Or should I wait down the way?" Bix nodded in the direction of the road.

"Down the way will do nicely, Bix. Thank you. I will return your jacket shortly." Sherlock pushed his arms into the old discoloured seaman's jacket, rubbed some charcoal from a stick he took out of his pocket under his eyes, ran his fingers along the wall to pick up some brick dust to wipe across his cheek and chin, then ran his fingers through the front of his hair to make it stand up at different angles. Showtime.

"Yeah, mind you don't get it all bloody this time." Chuckling, Bix shook his head, slipping his arms into Sherlock's coat to keep him warm while he waited. "Were a bugger to get it out last time, ya know."

"I will do my best." Sherlock grinned as he opened the rear pub door accessing the alleyway.

Closing the door behind him, he waited a few seconds to get his bearings and allow his eyes to adjust to the dimness. Hunching down into the jacket, he shuffled into the main room of the pub, looking around nervously from under his lashes, clasping and unclasping his fingers on the sleeves of the jacket. Out of the three men at the pool table, he picked out Donny Thomas immediately. Work Boots. Hovering near the table, one of the other men noticed him, and spoke up, "Well, looks like you 'ave a customer, Donny Boy."

Donny Thomas looked up from the table and took in the pitiful looking wanker, waiting, he figured for him. He did a quick inventory of his stuff in his head and thought he might have what the druggie was looking for. Handing his pool cue to the man who had spoken, he gestured with his head to indicate that the bloke should follow him outside to conduct their business. Turning his back to walk away, he didn't see the sly smile and sharpened gaze on Sherlock's face. Pity, that. If he had, he might have stood a chance. As it was, he had none.

* * *

_A/N: I had a request to make the chapters longer, so there you go, about a thousand more words. Enjoy. _

_Just a bit of warning: There will be some (possibly graphic) violence in the next chapter.  
_

_Thank you to all the lovely followers of this story, it is a joy to write it, and I appreciate the support. Scarlett, you really must get an account, dear. Incognito? In disguise? No worries, I will take your kind reviews anyway I can get them. _

_Help keep your author out of the vacuum! Please review. And wipe your feet before entering. Thank you and goodnight. - RS_


	14. Dancing in the Dark

_A/N: When studying human nature, one thing is very clear. No one is just one or two dimensional. There are many parts that make us whole. Everyone possesses a light side and a dark side. A good, as it were, and a bad. The ability to be a hero or a villain, or to be both simultaneously. What determines which side is which is in the perception of the observer. So. A warning. As indicated in the previous chapter, there will be some violence in this chapter and the one following. I believe it is necessary for the story line and also to show the dark side of Sherlock's character. As for the level of graphic-ness, I will leave you to judge._

**Chapter 14 – Dancing in the Dark**

_In which Lestrade breaks the rules, more or less, and Sherlock breaks Donny, rather more than less._

After Sherlock left the flat, John was feeling out of sorts. At loose ends. Lilly was resting so he thought perhaps he should put off making the tea for a bit. He paced the flat for a few minutes, then sat down and took a look at the newspaper to see what if anything he had missed while he had been away. It didn't make any sense to make the tea so soon after Lilly had retired to rest, but after an hour of waiting, John decided to start the tea anyway. If for no other reason than he wanted a cuppa himself.

While he waited for the kettle to boil, John searched around the kitchen for the bread. He had found the marmalade in the cupboard next to the mugs of all places, but now the bread was missing. Unless they were out of bread…He had also, much to his surprise and not a little embarrassment, found a pair of women's green silk knickers and a matching bra in separate evidence bags on the top shelf of the refrigerator. Some things, he decided, might be best not to think about. He was bent at the waist with his head in the cupboard under the sink when Lilly's voice coming from behind surprised him and he smacked the back of his head trying to stand upright.

"Hello, Dr. Wats –", Lilly covered her mouth with her hand, distressed at the dazed look on John's face as he rubbed the back of his head. "Oh, I am sorry! Are you all right? How many fingers am I holding up?"

John squinted at the hand that Lilly was holding a bit too close to the front of his face, then reached out to move it back a bit, smiling ruefully, "Three, I'm fairly sure. I'm fine. But it's good to see you up and around. Are you hungry? I was just making some tea and toast. If I can find the bread…"

He was relieved to note that she was now wearing one of Sherlock's dressing gowns over the tee shirt. It reached the floor, but it covered her up nicely. He smiled as he watched her join the search for the bread. She seemed like a very nice girl. Polite, quiet, but helpful…and apparently an abduction victim. How could he have forgotten that? Maybe he should insist that she sit down? She seemed fine, but with a trauma like that, you just didn't know. Before he could ask her to sit, she was opening the refrigerator and holding out the eggs, a bit of cheese and what looked like some left over ham in his direction. At least he hoped it was ham. With Sherlock, you had to careful about assuming anything, and he _had _been gone two days.

"If you don't mind, Dr. Watson, I think I could use something more substantial than toast. Do you fancy an omelet? I don't get a chance to cook very much, but I do make a really good omelet."

"Please. Call me John. May I call you Lilly? Good. Now stop talking nonsense, Lilly. You sit, I'll make it." John reached over to take the food from her, but she backed up out of his reach, smiling slightly.

"Dr. Wats-, I mean, John, unless I misunderstood, you have been out of town for a few days. Why don't you take a minute to deal with your bags and such?" She nodded in the direction of the suitcase and laptop case that John had dropped by the door when he came in. "Really, I'm fine. I need to do something, if for no other reason than to take my mind off waiting for whatever it is I'm waiting for. Let me do this. Please?"

"Alright. I'll just be a minute. The pans are in the cupboard down there." He pointed to the cupboard on his way out of the room. "Call me if you need anything."

He was headed up to his room when he heard the doorbell. A quick glance at his watch told him it was about time that Molly should be getting there, so he jogged down the stairs and threw open the front door. "Greg? What are you doing here?"

"I've came to see Sherlock." A sheepish looking DI Lestrade stood on the front stoop. He looked nervously around and then at his feet for a bit. Then he seemed to make up his mind on something, and took a few steps into the foyer, brushing past John as he did so. "Just to check in, you know? Haven't seen 'im in few days…wondering what he's got up to. That's all really."

"He's not home, Greg. I honestly don't know where he is." John was trying to maneuver so he was in between Lestrade and the stairs to the flat, but Lestrade kept moving forward, and short of grabbing him and pulling him aside, John didn't see how he could stop him. Plus he was acting rather strange, like he was hiding something, which made John a bit nervous, as he was hiding something himself, in the form of a recently abducted, and officially still missing young lady. He really needed to get Lestrade out of here. "Did you try texting him?"

"Yeah. I did. He didn't answer." Lestrade half turned back toward John. "You know what he's like. So. I thought, as I was in the area…just stopping by like and seeing if he was around."

Just then there was a sound at the landing for the stairs leading up to the flat. "John where are the spatulas? Um, oh never mind."

It was a woman's voice, but that didn't register with Lestrade because when he looked up, he knew that was Sherlock's blue dressing gown that had just disappeared around the corner of the landing. "Not home. Right."

Lestrade started up the stairs, ignoring John's voice telling him to stop, to wait a second. Then he was around the doorway and glancing into the kitchen, where a very scared Lady Lillian Fairfax was looking back at him. He turned back to look down at John, growling. "Where in the hell is Sherlock and what in god's name is he doing with _my_ _missing person_?"

**_7%7%7%7%7%7%7%_**

As Donny cleared the doorway, he turned with a sly grin only to be met by an incredibly strong hand grabbing his throat. Sherlock had a firm grip on Donny's throat with his right hand, and when the other man raised his right arm in defense, Sherlock used his left hand to block and then grip the wrist, twisting the entire arm, while he used his left leg to pull Donny's right leg out from under him. In less than three seconds, he had Donny face down on the pavement insuring his cooperation by bending his wrist back in a way it was not designed to bend.

It had become pretty clear to Donny by this time that this was no druggie looking for a fix. He managed to turn his head to let his cheek rest against the pavement so he could breathe. Sitting back on his heels next to Donny, Sherlock had released his throat, moving his right hand to apply pressure to the dealer's face, pressing his cheek into the ground, breaking skin and drawing blood. Donny opened his month to yell and the pain in his wrist got worse, which he didn't think was possible, but apparently, he was wrong.

"I would suggest that you do not struggle. It will only increase the pressure. Which will increase the pain. Too much pressure and…" Sherlock snapped his fingers once. His deep voice was quiet and controlled, yet managed to be low and menacing. He looked down at Donny with a fury that he was barely able to contain. Consumed by the thought of what this man had done to Lilly, a cold hard smile came to his face as he watched Donny flinch at the sharp sound of his fingers snapping. "If you cry out or in any way call attention to our little meeting here, I will be forced to increase that pressure. So, Mr. Thomas, what will it be? A nice friendly chat or a broken wrist? Though, actually, there is a third possibility. One in which they would be pulling your worthless corpse from the Thames. Should they ever find it."

Donny looked into the harsh face of the man, felt those icy blue eyes drilling a hole into his soul, and he believed. He swallowed hard, licked his lips and tried to speak normally, but couldn't without a stammer, "Cha-chat's go-good. I cou-could talk. Yeah. Whatever you want, mate. Just ease off."

Sherlock leaned back, taking his right hand off the side of Donny's head, and moving it to the back of his neck, which Donny didn't think was all that much of an improvement, but he wasn't about to argue with this nutter.

Sherlock leaned down and hissed in Donny's ear, "I want to know who hired you. I want a name."

"Hired me for what? I don't know what you're on about." Donny gasped as Sherlock applied a bit of pressure to his wrist. "Ok, mate, ok. Whatever you want. Just stop that, right?"

"The snatch yesterday. Who hired you? Who was behind it? Start talking, Mr. Thomas, and do not lie, because I will know if you do."

"Don't know. Honest." Donny squeezed his eyes shut anticipating more pain to his wrist. When it didn't come, he risked opening them and looking up at Sherlock, who was staring off at the wall on the other side of the alley. Encouraged by lack of expected pain, he continued, "I got a text. Shopping the job, like. If I were interested, I was to pick up a bag with the rest of the instructions. So I went and it was there, just like the text had said. I took it, and once I was alone, opened it."

"What was in the bag?"

"There was a list of instructions, real detailed too, with one of them disposable mobiles, and some other stuff. A uniform like that driver was wearing, and the money, like was promised. I just did everything like it said to do in the instructions. I never talked directly to anyone. Honest. You have to believe me. It was just through texts." While he was talking, Donny was trying to figure out who this bloke was. He wasn't like any copper he'd run into before, and didn't seem too concerned about 'cautioning' him about his rights. A dirty one then? Some kind of independent vigilante? "Do you think maybe you could let me up, mate? This is damned uncomfortable."

"Not just yet, Mr. Thomas. We have more to discuss." Sherlock calculated that he had approximately two minutes more before they were likely to be interrupted. By that time, he had to have Donny completely under his control, and then they could move to a place more conducive for the remainder of this interview. "Do you comprehend, Mr. Thomas that I require information you possess? Do you also appreciate that there are great lengths that I am prepared to go to get this information? Do you grasp the fact that if you cooperate with me in this it may end well for you? Alternately if you do not, that it will most definitely not end well for you? Do you realize that I am acquainted with where you live, I am familiar with where you prefer to spend your leisure time, and further that I have knowledge of whom your known associates are. I could go on, but I am quite sure you are getting my meaning, Mr. Thomas. You cannot run from me. You cannot hide. I will find you."

As Sherlock had been speaking, he watched Donny's face pale a bit more with each nod, until it was quite white and looking rather queasy. So to ensure the point was made, he gave the wrist a little squeeze. Donny's eye bugged slightly as he answered, "I get it, okay, I get it. I won't run. I swear on my mum's grave."

"Your mother is not deceased, Mr. Thomas. But I will accept your promise none the less. Please bear in mind that I do also know where your mother resides." Sherlock flashed a charmingly evil grin at Donny. He had no idea where Mrs. Thomas lived, but naturally, Donny didn't know that, and it would not be difficult to find out if necessary. Still, this was becoming mind-numbingly dull. Time to move things along.

Sherlock released Donny's wrist and stood upright, prepared for any attack that the man might make, though he was quite sure the precaution was unnecessary, as the man was in fact quite frightened of him. Delightful. Once he retrieved any helpful data from the man, he would be sure to leave him with a vivid reminder that it was not nice to hurt young ladies, in general or Lady Lilly in particular. At this thought the fury he had been keeping at bay flared in his eyes for a moment before he tamped it down again. But Donny saw it and flinched.

Once Donny was on his feet, Sherlock turned and started down the alleyway towards the street. Donny stood watching him, wondering if he should try to make a break for it, when Sherlock's voice cut across the distance, "I would not, if I were you, who, thank god I am not. This way, Mr. Thomas. Do try to keep up."

Following the two finger 'come along' gesture, Donny sighed, hoping that this all did 'end well'.

* * *

A/N: I had a terrible time separating this chapter down to a manageable size, so the next chapter is a continuation of this one, and lucky you, it's mostly done, and I will be posting it soon. Just want to thank the people who reviewed chapter 13: Kathyrne Buzolic and Scarlett. You people make me smile! And hey, there are now MORE reviews than chapters! Yay!

Also wanted to thank you amazing followers of this story. If you are just joining us, or have been along for the ride from the beginning, I write to share it with you, and knowing you are out there, waiting, gives me that little pressure to get writing.

If you love it, review it! If you hate it, review it anyway! - RS


	15. Duel or Duet?

**Chapter 15 – Duel or Duet?**

_In which the ends of the different threads appear and Sherlock grasps them._

Sherlock advanced to the street, Donny jogging along to keep up behind him. Once there, he took off Bix's jacket, handing it to him and taking his own back. As he slipped his arms into the sleeves, standing up to his full height, Donny's brain made a connection. That tall man who walked in front of the head beams last night at the cemetery. That detective bloke he texted with the coordinates.

"Is she okay then?" He asked suddenly. Sherlock cocked his head a bit and looked down at Donny like he was some kind of parasite that had suddenly learned to speak. "The girl, I mean. She's okay, right? I was worried, you see, it being so cold in there. I was the one that sent the text to you."

"I am aware of that fact, Mr. Thomas. Clearly. It is in fact one of the slight reasons why I have allowed you continue living. Shall we?" Sherlock opened a door in a building that had a car parts shop on the ground floor and steps leading up to an empty flat on the first floor. He gestured to Donny to precede him up the stairs.

"You good, or want me to come up?" Bix was always ready for anything Sherlock needed. He owed him big time, being as he had saved his life that time some wankers had pulled knives on him and would have cut him bad, but Sherlock had taken two of them down and ran off the other one. That plus the time or two when he had bailed him out of some trouble with the police, but all Sherlock ever asked in return was a bit of help now and again.

"No, Bix. I believe we will be fine. Thank you for all your assistance and please, let Ramona know that I will be in touch, possibly tomorrow." Sherlock popped his coat collar up as he turned away to shut the door behind him then ascended the stairs to the first floor. He anticipated that Donny would be waiting for him around the door, so he grabbed the arm that came out from behind it and once again Donny found himself on the floor with his wrist in a very uncomfortable position. "Well. That was tedious. I realize your need to take back control, Mr. Thomas, but really you will not succeed and it will only waste time. Shall we?"

Sherlock released his wrist and gestured into the room. Donny glanced over at a table in the middle of the room with two chairs beside it. He got up from the floor, rubbing his wrist and sat down on the chair facing the door. Sherlock continued to stand, with his hands clasped behind his back, looking up at the ceiling.

"Comfortable? Good. Now we may proceed. You will tell me the sequence of events that led up to the abduction, the events that occurred during the abduction and the events which followed. By the way, what did you do at the cemetery last night after we drove away?"

"Wait! How'd you know I was there?" Donny was sure that no one had seen him.

"A bit obvious, is it not? Never mind, it is not important…" Sherlock paused, then clapped his hands together, chuckling with a wink at Donny. "Ah! Cleaning up after yourself were you? Clever. Of course, not clever enough, as I was able to acquire a bit of fascinating evidence that will directly point to you. Without a doubt. So. Where were we? Ah. Yes. Please begin your narrative at the point which you received the first text and continue from there." Once Donny began speaking, Sherlock started pacing around the room, listening intently. When they got to the part about the picking up the bag, Sherlock stopped directly in front of Donny, interrupting him, "How were you able to collect bag? Where was it?"

"It was at the left luggage in the Victoria Coach Station. The text gave me a location to go to pick up the claim ticket. It was in an envelope stuck between a pillar and a pipe by one of the machines where you can collect tickets on the main concourse in the Victoria Station."

Sherlock stopped and did a quick mental route through the Victoria Station and found the spot. No CCTV coverage in that tiny corner. Humm. Cunning that. But then he knew that the person behind this was shrewd. "Fine. Moving on. Drugs?"

"No thanks, I'm good." Donny chuckled at his own joke, but choked it back when Sherlock glared at him. Still, he was beginning to relax and some of his natural swagger was coming back. "You mean the knock out ones? Had to provide those meself. Weren't hard to get, I've connections, as you may 'ave guessed."

"Indeed. Really, Mr. Thomas, must you murder the English language so? I had _myself _in fact guessed that you _have_ connections. I am not even going to touch that '_weren't_'…" Sherlock rolled his eyes to the ceiling in dismay. Idiot. How they get out of bed in the morning was beyond comprehension. Donny just looked confused at the impromptu grammar lesson.

"Yeah, so they weren't provided, but the instructions were real clear about what ones to use and when. I remember thinking that this was going to a lot of trouble to snatch one little bird. But I figured that the boss must know what they were about, you know?"

"The boss. Hmm. Yes. Impressions?"

Donny sat back in the chair and scratched his head a bit. This bloke was definitely strange; one minute wants to beat him up, the next wants entertainment? "What do you mean? You want I should do an impression of David Tennant or some such? Though I do a fair David Bowie now that you mention it."

"Please, Mr. Thomas. Could you focus on the matter at hand?" Sherlock sighed and wished that these people would at least try to have half a brain cell working. Who were these Davids he was referring of? Must have deleted. Clearly. Not. Important. "I was asking about your own_ impressions_, ideas, instincts, dare I say, _thoughts_, of who you think this boss might be. Man? Woman? Group of people?"

"Seriously?" Donny looked kind of thoughtful for a minute, then decided that Sherlock was really interested in what he thought. "I remember thinking that the boss must be cracked or something. Tad barmy mayhap, lost the plot, you know? I got a sense of anger too. At the girl, you know? Direct like. I mean, some of the stuff in those instructions were – _was _very picky. But stuff that didn't make no real sense to do."

Sherlock stopped pacing and looked directly at Donny, intrigued. Perhaps this human slug did have a bit of insight. Interesting. Who would have thought? Hmm. "Give me an example."

"You know, different stuff. Like I was to snatch her, but not actually physically hurt her. But I ask you, doesn't drugging her, putting the ties on her ankles and dumping her seem like physically hurting someone? I mean, leave the water and the blanket but take her clothes? Why?" Sherlock actually snarled at him when he alluded to the zip ties and clothes, so Donny made a mental note not to mention those again. He tried to think of something quickly to distract the man. "Basically, I kinda didn't see the point of all the staging."

Sherlock calmed down a bit at that, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling again, and Donny released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Ah. Staging. Yes. My thought exactly, Mr. Thomas. A scene was set. All the players on their marks. All that is lacking is the plot. So. Your instructions were to leave her at this 'staged' scene. Let the play continue on as it may. Except you did not play your part. Did you? You 'ad-libbed' so to say. Sending me the text. Hmm. Not part of the script. Why? What made you do that? Why should you be worried? It was a job well done. Yes?" Sherlock hissed the last few words.

"Cuz, mate, I was led to believe that the girl wouldn't be there very long. Just long enough for her to be uncomfortable like, a tad scared. Which when you think about it kinda seems like something another girl might do." At that Donny sat up a bit like he was on to something, but then he lost the thought, and slumped back into the chair. "But, you know, I felt real bad leaving her there. It didn't sit right, see? And the later it got the more worried I started feeling."

"Ah. Your fellow feeling is commendable." The sarcasm fairly dripped from Sherlock's lips. "You felt bad. You were so very worried. So you sent me the coordinates, assuming that I would know what to do with them. Which naturally, I did. Good call, Mr. Thomas."

"Well, I sent it to the coppers first. But they didn't do nothing."

"Do _anything_." Sherlock distractedly corrected the other man's speech, then what Donny had said filtered through and Sherlock sharpened his gaze on Donny's face. "What did you just say? Whom did you send a text to?"

"Copper name of Donovan. That Sargent Donovan bird. I had hung around the Yard for a while that day and I figured out that she was involved in the case, like, so I thought she'd go pick up the girl and that would be that. Only she didn't. She just left the Yard and went down to the pub. When I figured out that she wasn't gonna do nothing – _anything_, I looked up your web site and sent the text to you."

"Intriguing. What could dear Sargent Donovan have been thinking…Ha!" Donny was startled by Sherlock's sudden bark of laughter, as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation, his eyes gleaming with humor. "I imagine that bit of information will be of some use to me in the near future. Oh yes."

Chuckling to himself, Sherlock took another turn around the room, twirling himself as he went, his coat billowing out around him. Suddenly, with a clap of his hands, he was back standing directly in front of Donny, or rather looming over him. "I believe that I have everything I can glean from you at this time. So. Mr. Thomas, as you have done me a good turn, so I return the favor. You may leave freely. I will not stop you."

Donny was stunned. Maybe it was a trick or something. The bloke wasn't just gonna let him go now, was he? That would be too good to be true. "What? Just like that? You're not gonna turn me in or nothing?"

"Of course not. Why would I do that? What possible good could it do for you to go before the magistrates?" Sherlock looked genuinely surprised at Donny's question. He stepped back to allow Donny access to the door. "You were merely the facilitator of the deed, not the catalyst. Also, you have been most cooperative and informative. Strangely insightful actually."

"Listen, mate, I'm real sorry I done what I done and if the job came around again, I'd just turn it down flat! No question. Honest." Donny was getting the feeling that, yes this would be ending well. He couldn't believe it. He stood up and started for the door. "I swear I would."

"I believe you would. Just, please, do not swear on your _not dead_ mother's grave again." At the thought of a _mother's grave_, Lilly's face popped into Sherlock's mind and suddenly, he recalled how angry he had felt when he was taking the zip ties off Lilly and even as he acknowledged to himself that it was extremely illogical to do so, Sherlock stepped forward again, blocking the path to the door. "However. There is one further point which we must discuss. About your treatment of the girl…It will be necessary for you to answer for that. Not optional. True you were 'just following instructions', though you did not have to enjoy it. _As you did._ No. Do not try to deny it, Mr. Thomas. Your body language gave you away when you related those events to me. So. That leaves us with some unfinished business. We could engage in some proper man to man fisticuffs, perhaps…"

Donny paled again; he knew he couldn't hope to win a fight with this man, either physically or mentally. He thought he might try some humor to get out of it, so he asked, "What about pistols at dawn?"

"Are you challenging me, or choosing your weapon of choice?" Sherlock was a bit captivated with the old fashioned idea of defending a woman's honor. Then he came to his senses and realized that this was all very well and good, but it was wasting time and was illogical to the extreme. What was the matter with him? He never let emotions get in the way of the work. Not before and certainly not now. The sooner he wrapped up this case and got Lilly out of his life the better. But he had started this conversation, so he had to finish it. "Here is what we will do, Mr. Thomas. I will not hurt you. Mind I could, badly. You do know that do you not? Fine. I will not hurt you, and you will never do anything like this again. You will be the utmost respectful to women. If I hear of you mistreating another, I will come for you. And hear of it I will, trust me. In addition, if I have need of assistance from you in the future, you will give it willingly. Understood? Good. Now get out! Before I change my mind."

Donny fairly ran for the door, and started down the stairs, as Sherlock's voice followed him out, "And for god's sake, go visit your mother!"

* * *

A/N: Whew! Made it through that one. I had to wrestle with it a bit more than I anticipated…So, we are coming to it soon. Any guesses on who the 'boss' might be? Come on, give it your best guess. I figured it out (okay I've known from the start,_ and that's not cheating, that's using my senses_) and you probably have also. I'd love to hear who you think it is.

Once again, I have to thank all the lovely people following the story. It's up to 19 now. Yay. Also, a big thanks to my review ladies, Scarlett and Kathryne, you guys are the best! Without you reviewers, I would be living the vacuum life. Thank you for your support. Still holding at more reviews than chapters, which is my dream. - RS


	16. The Kettle Just Boiled

A/N: I am very sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. I had a bit a of time wrestling with it and just wasn't happy with it, but I finally got it whipped into submission so here you go. Don't let the title or the summary put you off, it was just going to be the working title but then I got attached to it. Thanks for your patience. - RS

**Chapter 16 - The Kettle Just Boiled**

_In which omelets are eaten, tea is drunk and Lestrade stops his grumbling. _

After a brief stop in the loo of the car parts shop, to clean off his face and get his hair back in place, Sherlock was back out on Coldharbour Lane.

He took out his mobile and sent a text to Bix:

_Change of plans. Follow Thomas. If convenient. See where he goes from here. Report back. Just this evening will do. Will reimburse expenses. – SH_

_No worries. Will get it sorted. Let you know if turns dodgy. – Bix_

Sherlock tucked his mobile back into the pocket of his trousers as he turned and headed back to Baker Street. He was still wondering why Lestrade had not contacted him yet. Most curious. Clearly, Lestrade needed him. He did not need Lestrade.

_7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%_

Donny Thomas was feeling both wonderful and sick to his stomach. He had managed to get through that – that _interrogation._ Was that the right word? Whatever you called it, thinking about what could have happened had him on edge. That detective bloke could have seriously done some damage to him. But then he just let him go. Free. And the girl, she must be alright. Though he hadn't really answered that did he? Anyways, Donny got the feeling that the bloke was pretty alright. He reckoned that if Sherlock Holmes called needing some help in the future, it wouldn't be no hardship to help him. And maybe, if he needed some help himself, the bloke just might come through. Then again, maybe not. Best not to push it.

All in all, not a bad day considering. He pulled out his mobile to check and see if he had missed any calls while he was "chatting" in the empty flat.

_**One new message**_

_**Sender info blocked**_

Donny opened the message to see who it was from, only to wish he hadn't opened it at all. It was from the Boss:

_What have you done?! Where is the girl? I paid you to do the job. Just the job. I am warning you. Where is she?_

Donny closed the message, glancing around at the people on the street. Was one of them the Boss? Was the Boss watching him right now? Donny decided to make himself scarce for a few days. He headed for the tube station. Even with the thought that someone might be watching him, he failed to notice that he did in fact have someone on his tail.

_7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%_

"Where in the hell is Sherlock and what in god's name is he doing with _my missing person_? Well? Where is he?" Lestrade growled at John, who was shaking his head as he came up the stairs. "I'll take him in, John, I swear I will! Once too many times he's withheld information! Damn it!"

John shot him a mind your manners look, and said very quietly, "Language, Detective Inspector. In the presence of a lady, need I remind you?"

"Oh, yeah." Lestrade turned to Lilly with an embarrassed smile, as he ran a hand up the back of his neck nervously. "Excuse my French, please. I'm a tad upset, you see."

"Perfectly understandable, I'm sure." Lilly smiled brightly as she walked forward, standing straight with her shoulders back, to extend her hand in greeting to the DI. The dressing gown trailed along on the floor like an elegant train on a ball gown. Even in a tee shirt, dressing gown, bare feet and mussed hair, she looked every bit the titled Lady that she was. "So pleased to meet you, Detective Inspector, I am Lillian Fairfax. I gather that I am the missing person you are referring to? Well, as you can see, the good news is that I am no longer 'missing'."

"Um, yeah, that's good. Real good. Great in fact. I was actually starting to worry that we weren't gonna find you at all. Been pulling my hair out on this case and your family…" Flustered, Lestrade just stood in the doorway of the kitchen staring at Lilly like she was some sort of hallucination. He tilted his head at John, the expression on his face indicating that other things would be said later, when the _lady_ wasn't present.

Turning his attention fully to Lilly, he began to wonder if in fact she had been actually abducted at all. She looked remarkably calm and relaxed for someone who had just been drugged and abducted. Was she playing some sort of game? The sudden suspicion that crept into his voice was not lost on John. "I have to tell you, this is the last place it would have occurred to me to look for you, Lady Lillian. So, tell me, have you known Sherlock and John long?"

John broke in; clearing his throat and looking at Lestrade in what could only be a warning to tread softly with Lilly. So, Lestrade thought to himself, John's feeling a tad protective. His next thought was that he didn't need a fight with John right then so he rephrased his question. "Lady Lillian, how did you come to be here in this flat? We have been searching for you ever since your driver discovered you missing and-"

"Ron? Is he alright? Sherlock didn't know for sure, he thought Ron was probably okay…but he asked me not to contact anyone yet. Not until he knew it would be safe. He's still investigating." Lilly clutched Lestrade's arm and looked up into his eyes for confirmation that Ron was alright, letting go when he nodded in the affirmative. "I've been so worried about him. That he was okay, and worried about him worrying about me. I know he must be very upset. I can hardly bear to think that he's worrying about me when I'm fine."

Lilly looked so distressed that Lestrade's heart melted a bit, and he let the relief he had felt when he first saw her standing there flood back and take over from the irritation he was feeling at Sherlock. Well, part of the irritation anyway. He wasn't keen about the 'still investigating' part. So Sherlock was on the case, was he? Then he remembered his original reason for showing up here at Baker Street and had the grace to let the rest of the irritation go. The lady was safe and sound. Sherlock was involved, but not brought in by official means. So it was good. Real good. He smiled widely at both John and Lilly.

"Mr. Somers is fine, Lady Lillian. He was drugged and a tad banged up, but otherwise fine. He's real upset about you though. As is the rest of you family…in fact I was with your sister this morning. We got a tip that you were being held in Reigate, but when we got there, you were gone. Your sister was nearly hysterical when I had to tell her that you weren't there. She was the one who got the text with the location."

"Really? Interesting that." All three of them turned at the sound of Sherlock in the doorway, no one had heard him enter the house. He had a slightly puzzled look on his face as he spoke. He also had two purple shopping bags bearing the name of a high end boutique in his hands.

John couldn't miss the air of distraction that hung about his friend. He was still curious about where his flat mate had gone earlier and he was pretty sure it involved more than just shopping. Wait. Shopping? Sherlock? "Where have you been? You could answer a text now and again you know. I've been trying to reach you."

Sherlock continued into the room, ignoring John's concerned look. Handing the shopping bags to Lilly without a word, he noted that she was wearing his blue dressing gown. It occurred to him that it was good that she was covered up, what with Lestrade gazing at her with his puppy dog eyes. Not to mention John, would be lecher that he was. That she wearing _his _dressing gown gave him a strange feeling of satisfaction. It also occurred to him that she looked very lovely in that shade of blue. That thought made him frown. Don't go there, he told himself. Then it occurred to him that she was no longer wearing his suit jacket, so he headed to the bedroom to retrieve it.

After a minute, he returned to the kitchen, straightening the sleeves on the suit jacket and wearing a fresh white dress shirt. John pressed his lips together and folded his arms over his chest, giving Sherlock a look that clearly said we are not done with this yet. Sherlock pointedly ignored that look also.

He briefly met Lilly's eyes and smiled slightly at her, a strange sense of anticipation filling his chest. He hoped she liked the clothes he had picked up for her. He knew they would fit and the colors should suit. Naturally, he was even aware of the sizes she needed for the more intimate apparel. Purchasing those had been an ordeal. You would think that a man had never in the history of the world purchased women's underthings before. The shop employees had fallen all over themselves to help once they got over their shock at his request to buy some. They alternated between flirting with him and acting maternal. Most irritating. Sherlock determined that he was in fact never shopping for women's clothes again.

Ah. It was good to be back in Baker Street. John standing there, trying to be all firm and stern, but really just worried. Lestrade finally here to beg the help he so unmistakably needed. Lilly busy cooking. Something with eggs and cheese. Curious that. Why would she be cooking? She looked up and mouthed thank you at him. He inclined his head towards her in acknowledgement, continuing to ignore John's curiosity. Then he turned his attention to focus completely on Lestrade.

"When the police are out of their depth, which is always, they come to me. You have been out of your depth, Lestrade, since yesterday and yet, you did not come to me for assistance. I have to ask myself why?" Sherlock smiled suddenly. "Oh. I see. This is not an official visit. You just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought you would pop round for a bit of a check in then. If you happened to find me at home and we got to talking about oh, things…and maybe you might slip in a vague question here and there to help you get an idea of where you should be looking… Am I wrong? No. I did not think so. Come come, Lestrade, you are so very easy to read. The whole of it shows in your every movement. Whose idea was it to not consult with me? More importantly, why did it take you this long to ignore that instruction? Lilly was obviously in danger. Still would be or worse, if I hadn't found her."

Lestrade squirmed a bit under Sherlock's direct gaze. "Listen, Sherlock, we really need to talk."

"Indeed. We do. Most important. The dog is the key, Lestrade. The case has progressed from circumstantial to concrete based on the evidence I retrieved from the dog collar. Tell Dimmock."

"What are you on about, Sherlock? Dimmock, dog…?" Lestrade rolled his eyes, exasperated with Sherlock's tendency to pick random subjects for conversation without cluing anyone else in on what he was talking about.

Lilly handed Lestrade a plate with an omelet on it and a fork and he followed Sherlock into the lounge. John took his plate and made his way over to his own chair to sit and eat. Lilly brought up the rear of the procession with a tray of tea things, setting it down and handing out the tea filled cups to Lestrade and John. Sherlock declined. After returning to the kitchen to get another omelet filled plate, she perched on the arm of Sherlock's chair and watched him pace around the room, thinking that he looked good enough to eat. Also that he looked like he should actually eat something.

"Really Lestrade. Please at least try to follow. It is quite simple. Even you should be able to do so." When Lestrade just continued to look blankly at him, Sherlock let out a long suffering sigh. "The Shoreditch murder case? Ringing any bells? Coming up before the court soon? Hmm?"

"Oh. Yeah? You found something then? Dimmock will be over the moon. Really want's that guy sent down. I'll have him give you a call." Lestrade noticed Sherlock grimaced at that. "Fine. I'll take care of it. Where's the report?"

"Molly will have it. Contact her. Moving on." Sherlock waved his hands around his head before shoving them deep into the pockets of his trousers, as he continued pacing around the lounge. When he passed Lilly, she held out a forkful of omelet to him. To everyone's surprise, including his own, he took a bite off her fork and actually ate it. He tilted his head slightly to the side and looked at Lilly sideways with one eyebrow raised. "Umm. It is good. But I never eat during a case."

"Well, that's not good for you, Sherlock." She looked reprovingly at him, holding out another forkful to him. After a slight pause, in which both John and Lestrade expected him to get annoyed at Lilly, Sherlock leaned over and once more took the offered bite. Lilly smiled like the sun had finally come out on a rainy day, and Sherlock winked at her. Lilly laughed out loud. "See? You can be sensible, Mr. Holmes."

They were both oblivious to the shocked faces of the other two people in the room. John was just starting to come to terms with this whole…Lilly and Sherlock thingy, whatever it was, but Lestrade was shocked speechless. He actually snorted some of his tea up his nose. While Lilly patted him on the back until his coughing subsided, he just kept starting at Sherlock in confusion. Sherlock noticed him staring and decided to distract him.

"So. A text you say? To Lilly's step sister? Did you see this text? Hmm. Intriguing. You are referring to Victoria Burke if I am not mistaken? When did she receive this text? What was the subject of this text?"

"That's right, Victoria. She got a text this morning with some GPS coordinates and came down to the Yard straight away. Thought it might be important. We figured that they might have something to do with where Lady Lillian was, so we went there, but she wasn't there. But she had been, right?" He looked over at Lilly for confirmation; she nodded and asked him to please call her Lilly.

"So. Victoria Burke got a text. Hmm? My, my, the text messages were flying fast and furious were they not? A text which contained coordinates to the location where Lilly was supposedly being held. Intriguing. Most interesting, in fact. What possible reason would the abductor have, assuming it was the abductor whose little fingers have been tapping away to all and sundry, to send a text with the location of his victim?" Sherlock stopped pacing, stood in front of Lestrade, apparently in deep thought, his hands steepled together, resting on his lips. "One thing has been bothering me, Lestrade. It is most curious. What about Donovan? Tell me about the one that Donovan received. Why did she not follow up?"

"Donovan? What did she receive? What didn't she follow up on? What are you going on about, Sherlock?" Lestrade was still reeling from the friendly interaction between Sherlock and Lady Lil- Lilly. Seemed a tad more personal than just someone_ investigating_ for someone else…

"I have it on impeccable authority that Sargent Sally Donovan did in fact receive a text last night at approximately 8:50. The substance of that text was the coordinates to the location in Reigate where Lilly was being held. It was in fact the first text with those coordinates that was sent. I repeat, Lestrade, why did she not follow up? Why, in fact, did she do absolutely nothing with that information?"

Speechless once more, Lestrade could only stare at Sherlock dumb-founded. Donovan withholding evidence? Sherlock turned his head so Lestrade could not see his sly grin. Feeling quite pleased with himself, he turned back to Lestrade with an expression of the utmost seriousness on his face. He just knew this was going to be great fun. He planned to enjoy it immensely.

* * *

A/N: Wow! My dream of more reviews than chapters has come true! At 15 chapters, there were 21 reviews! You guys are the best! Thanks to Kathryne Buzolic and Scarlett, loyal and lovely reviewers: you guys have no idea how much I look forward to hearing from you. Also a huge thank you to The Yoshinator and BlueBearsweetie for your wonderful reviews on chapter 15! I'm feeling the love people!

Finally a huge thank you to TheGirlWhoImagined (and whoever told her about this story if she didn't find it herself) for adding it to her community OC Romancing.

I haven't started the new chapter yet, but once I'm in the writing zone it goes fast, so hopefully it will be up soon. Thanks for your support! - RS


	17. Do You Trust Me?

**Chapter 17 – Do You Trust Me?**

_In which Sherlock gets a new client and the threads begin to come together._

Lestrade just sat there, staring at Sherlock. He had as much as accused Donovan of withholding evidence. Not in so many words, 'course, it was more implied, but it amounted to the same. As he was gathering his scattered wits to form a reply, the doorbell rang.

"Single ring." John noted.

"Maximum pressure just under the half second," Sherlock observed.

"So it's a client then." John remarked.

"Just so. Without a doubt it will be my latest client." With that, Sherlock quickly gathered the plates, forks and tea things onto the tray and shoved the tray into Lestrade's arms, pushing him toward the kitchen. "I will have to ask you to wait in the kitchen to keep your presence unknown to my client. Quickly now. No time to waste arguing. Just do it."

Once he had Lestrade in the kitchen, grumbling away at being bustled so, Sherlock turned to John and asked him to get the door and to bring the client up to the lounge, adding over his shoulder that he would be right back. Taking Lilly's hand, he led her to the bedroom, stopping along the way to slide the door between the kitchen and the lounge shut and to make sure that the door from the kitchen directly onto the landing was also closed, as he reminded Lestrade that he could listen to his heart's content, but he must not betray his presence.

Pulling Lilly by the hand into the bedroom, he shut the door behind them. Turning to her, he cupped her cheek in his hand and asked quietly, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes. Of course." Lilly looked steadily into Sherlock's intense blue-green eyes and he knew it was the truth. He also knew that when she realized who the 'client' was it would be difficult for her to fight the emotional urge to come out and reveal herself to them.

"Then you must do all that I ask. Without question. You may hear someone talking. It will be difficult for you not to come out to the lounge. You must not. Do you understand? You will have to fight your emotion. In this, do not listen to your heart. Listen only to your mind. Your logical mind. Trust me and all will be well." Sherlock knew she would do everything in her power to do what he asked, but they were dealing with sentiment, and it sometimes overrode logic. Still he had faith that Lilly had a more logical mind than other mere humans. It was one of the things he most admired in her. He smiled down at the concern in her face. "You may wish to get dressed. Once things are established you will be making an appearance and it would not do to make that appearance in my dressing gown."

He turned to open the door, but Lilly's hand on his arm caused him to turn back to her. She pulled him close and standing on her tip toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down and quickly kissed him. Sherlock was so surprised that he returned the kiss automatically and thoroughly, before his brain caught up and he pulled away a bit dazed. How did she keep doing that to him? All this physical _touching_. All this- this _kissing_! What was wrong with him? It occurred to him that it should be distracting, but strangely, it was not. It was almost becoming second nature. He could kiss Lilly and still think logically. Very strange. In his vast experience, emotion and logic were polar opposites. So logically he should not be able process both at the sometime. And yet. And yet, he was doing so. Interesting. He would have to analyze it later.

Going back down the hallway, he passed through the kitchen, gesturing with a finger to his lips at Lestrade sitting at the table, who rolled his eyes at the dramatics of it all, and entered the lounge through the door off the landing. John was sitting at the desk with his laptop open and the new client was sitting in his chair across from him. The man looked up when Sherlock entered the room and nodded to him.

"Mr. Somers, I presume? No. No. Do not get up." Sherlock moved to sit down opposite the man in his own chair and focused all of his attention on the man, his appearance, his attitude, everything. "I must say. I was most intrigued when I got your email asking for a consultation. You were rather vague as to the subject of the requested consultation. I trust now that we are face to face you will be more forthcoming with the reason for your visit? Good. What may we do for you, Mr. Somers? It is quite obvious from the state of your person that you have not slept and something serious is weighing on your mind."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Holmes. As I was just telling Dr. Watson here, I need your help desperately. You see, I shouldn't be here at all, but I couldn't just sit and wait." Ron Somers sat forward earnestly on the edge of the chair and everything about his posture called out for assistance from the man sitting across from him. "I apologize; I'm getting ahead of myself. You don't even know why I'm here. Yesterday, while we were in town –"

John picked up a pen to take some notes, but stopped confused when Sherlock interrupted the client. God he hoped Sherlock wasn't going to show off. Yes it was impressive. The first fifty times or so. He let the pen slide through his fingers to the desk. He didn't know why he bothered trying to take notes. Sherlock Holmes knew everything anyway.

"Yes. Actually, I do know why you are here, Mr. Somers. You are referring to the abduction yesterday of Lady Lillian Fairfax, who was driven away from Harrods's by an abductor and has not been seen by her family nor the official police since."

Ron was clearly shocked. "How? How do you know that? No one knows! Just the police and the family. And the staff of course. We have all been sworn to secrecy. The family is beside themselves with worry."

"Indeed. They are worried. Worried about the press getting ahold of the information, but I rather guess that they are not so very worried about Lilly, or they would be getting word out. Contacting anyone who could assist. And yet they are not." Sherlock stood and walked around to the back of his chair, watching Ron's reactions as he spoke. "Why do you think that is Mr. Somers? Obviously, you do not agree with that view or you would not be here, consulting me."

Ron looked down at the carpet clearly agitated. When he looked up again it was with clear distaste in his expression. "Yes, you are right. I've been thinking the same thing myself. That maybe Lord Henry, or rather his wife, Lady Constance is worried about a scandal or something, more than she is worried about the safety of Lady Lilly. They told the police that they had to keep it quiet. Get her back, but not to let any leaks out to the press. And mind, I'm not putting the blame on the police, they are doing all they can, I'm sure, but it's been over a day and a half already and with each minute that passes, I'm more worried about our Lilly. You see, Lady Lilly is more than just the daughter of my employer; she's like a niece to me. I've watched her grow up and I made a promise to her mum when she was dying to watch over Lilly and protect her. I ask you, how is letting her get taken by some stranger protecting her? I'll never forgive myself if we don't get her back safe, Mr. Holmes."

"Well. We cannot have that now can we? So. Mr. Somers. You were wondering how I knew about the abduction. Frankly at this point, it does not really matter. Suffice to say that I do and leave it at that for now. I will tell you, though, at one point, before I had availed myself of some basic data, I was wondering if you were actually involved from the beginning." When Ron's hands fisted and the man looked as if he was preparing to come at Sherlock, he added with a wry smile, "Striking me will not be necessary, Mr. Somers. I said at one point those were my thoughts. Not now. Please resume your seat. Thank you. I have heard too much about you to consider you a serious suspect any longer. Now I consider you an ally in the pursuit of the solution to this case. Tell me. Do you have any idea who would wish to do this to Lilly?"

"First off. I have to tell you that it matters to me where you heard about all this. But I will leave it for now. And another thing. No one in their right mind would want to hurt Lady Lilly." He paused to gather his thoughts and then addressed them to John as Sherlock had started to pace the room and he was getting dizzy watching him. Ron wasn't sure how to take this Holmes character. He seemed a bit of a tough nut. Dr. Watson, on the other hand, seemed like a nice sort of bloke. Attentive and all that. His face assumed a gentle expression as he continued, "She's a sweet thing, Dr. Watson. Not pretentious, though she could be with her station and all, but always kind and caring to the people around her. Everyone loves her. So I'm wondering if it's something to do with her father, Lord Henry. You know, someone trying to get to him through her. But there's been no ransom note, no demands, and it just doesn't seem, I don't know, to be playing out that way…"

Sherlock came to a standstill across the room as he interrupted Ron. "Ah. Very astute of you, Mr. Somers. I would have to agree with you that it does not in fact seem to be related to her father. Rather everything I have been finding out about this whole episode points to the fact that Lilly was the intended target of the abduction and that it is not related to someone trying to use her to get to her father."

He paused and looked directly into Ron's face. The intenseness in his gaze was disconcerting. Ron swore he could feel the heat of it all the way across the room. "She is the epicenter of the whole conspiracy. The focal point of the intent. The queen as it were. You state that everyone loves her. Is that completely true? There is no one who perhaps fears her, is jealous of her, or hates her? Think, Mr. Somers. Think very hard. There must be someone."

"Well, hate is a strong word, Mr. Holmes. If I had to say that there was anyone who doesn't maybe appreciate Lady Lilly as much as they should…I would have to say that stepmother and stepsister of hers would be the closest." He looked uncomfortable as he admitted this. "Lilly never likes me saying so, she is always trying to see the good in everybody, but sometimes I don't think that Victoria and Lady Constance are as kind as they should be towards Lady Lilly."

"How so?" Sherlock asked sharply. When Ron hesitated, Sherlock waved his hand impatiently for him to continue.

John saw the indecision in Ron's face and tried to soften Sherlock's impatience by asking gently, "Do you think you could give us an example of something specific they do that you feel isn't kind?"

Ron drew in a breath and sat up a bit straighter in the chair, looking at John rather than at Sherlock. "Well, they seem to nag on her a bit. You know little things, like her clothes, her hair, stuff like that. But even I would be reluctant to lay this at their door. I mean it's a stretch from complaining about how she lives her life to having her abducted. I just can't see Lady Constance doing that."

Sherlock pounced on Ron's choice of words. He strode over to stand in front of Ron, holding his hands together prayer like against his lips and staring at Ron fixedly. "Fascinating. You say you cannot see Lady Constance doing so, but by you not including Victoria Burke in that sentence, should we infer that you could perhaps imagine Victoria doing so?"

"No! I didn't mean that. That's not what I'm saying." Suddenly Ron felt that this whole conversation was getting away from him and perhaps he had made an error in judgment coming for help from this detective man.

John threw a warning look at Sherlock to back off a bit and shook his head slightly. Sherlock noticed the warning and walked off across the room, looking back at John to check that he had done the correct thing. John inclined his head slightly in agreement, then turned to Ron, "I think what Sherlock's wondering is what has made you so sure that Victoria could not have done this. Perhaps you could explain what you mean?"

"Oh. Well, you have to understand that Victoria's just a spoiled young woman. She's not always pleasant to the staff and she can be a bit wild sometimes, but do this? No." Ron stopped and became thoughtful, going through his mind for what he knew were the facts. "Besides, she was called away. She has a text on her phone that proves someone wanted her out of the way so they could get to Lady Lilly. Plus she got another text this morning with directions to the location where Lilly was held. But by the time the police got there, Lilly was gone. And that was the end of the lead. They have nowhere to go. No other leads. It's like our Lilly has just disappeared. Again. And I have to tell you. I saw Victoria when she came back to the estate. She was in a right state. She was agitated and jumpy. Real affected by the fact that Lilly is still missing. To tell you the truth, it surprised me it did. Her being so upset."

"So surprising behavior from the stepsister. Interesting." Sherlock started pacing the room again, with his hands clasped behind his back. "I must ask you, Mr. Somers. Did you get the feeling that perhaps Victoria was actually angry, rather than just upset, that the lead did not pan out?"

"Well, now that you mention it, she did seem rather angry. I assumed it was because they had arrived at the location too late to find Lilly."

John sat forward in his chair. He wasn't sure where Sherlock was trying to go with all this, but he seemed very interested in this stepsister. So maybe getting a general impression of Victoria might be helpful. Especially since John still didn't really know most of the facts in the case. "How would you describe Victoria Burke? Could you be more specific about what she's like?"

"Well, a bit wild, like I said before. Likes to be the center of the attention. Gets annoyed easily when someone else is being noticed, that kind of thing. But she's always been like that. Even when she was a teenager. Sometimes I've thought that she seems a bit off, you know? Kind of like she's not quite right somehow. But she can't be involved in this. She and Lilly had just gotten together for some shopping and what not. Like sisters do. And it was that text she got about her friend that made her leave Lilly like that at the store. Then she got that other text with the directions. Nuh, it just doesn't make any sense that Victoria could be involved."

Sherlock paused in his pacing, deep in thought for a bit before he asked, "What does the location where Lilly was held say to you, Mr. Somers?"

John looked over at Sherlock and was annoyed to see he had his _we all know the answer to that_ face on. He just hoped Ron didn't pick up on it, after he had finally got him settled down from the last time Sherlock upset him. Not to mention the fact that, no they all didn't know the answer to that.

"Well, when I first heard that it was in the Reigate Cemetery, my heart just broke a bit for Lilly. Her mum's buried there you know. Of all the places to put her, why they have to go and do that? Just cruel that was." Ron looked despairingly at Sherlock. It was obvious to anyone looking at him that he was a devastated man.

Well, John thought, Sherlock just had to go and do it again. He just had to upset the poor man. But then it was to be expected when Sherlock was doing the talking. He leaned back in the chair and sighed deeply. Sherlock glanced over sharply at him, then turned his attention back to Ron.

"Because, Mr. Somers, it was _personal_. The person behind this abduction wished to hurt Lilly on many levels, not all of them physical. They knew that the location would upset her. As would the condition in which they had left her there."

"What do you mean, the condition they left her in? The police didn't have any idea what circumstances she was in when she was there. Just that it looked like she had been sick at some point. How do you know what condition she was in, Mr. Holmes? Answer me!" Ron's voice had been steadily rising as he spoke. Now it dropped down to low growl that he directed at Sherlock. "And it better be a good answer, or you will be doing more than just explaining it to me."

"Hmm. Are you threating me, Mr. Somers? Again? How amusing." Sherlock tilted his head slightly in Ron's direction. "Yet I believe the time has come to let you into our confidence. Before doing so, I will have to ask you to give me your word that what you see and hear in the next little while goes no further than yourself. I assure you that the safety of Lady Lillian depends upon it."

"I would die before I did anything to put Lady Lilly in any danger."

"I believe that you would, Mr. Somers." Sherlock smiled approvingly at Ron before he walked over to the sliding door and opened it, motioning for Lestrade to come into the lounge. "I assume that you two gentlemen have met, if I am not mistaken, which I rarely am."

"Detective Inspector Lestrade! What are you doing here? Well, I guess that explains how Mr. Holmes here knows so much about the case."

"Actually, it doesn't. I came here, unofficially, much like yourself, to consult with Sherlock. Naturally, he was way ahead of me on this one."

"What do you mean?" Ron looked around the room, as he had just realized that Sherlock Holmes was no longer in it. "Where did he go? He was just here a minute ago..."

Ron stopped abruptly as he realized that Sherlock Holmes had returned to the room with someone who looked remarkably like Lady Lilly.

* * *

A/N: Any thoughts? Any guesses on who done it? I'll give you a hint...someone with the initials "JM" is - not involved! Yep, this case is one that we can't lay the blame on Jim. I guess he was out of the country or maybe hanging out somewhere else making someone into shoes. So this maybe your last chance to get those guesses in, because it might be revealed in the next chapter or maybe the one after that. Don't quote me on that, it's just an estimate, as I'm never a 100% in control of these things, and Sherlock may or may not be feeling like it...

I'm going to have to gush a bit here thanking all you wonderful reviewers and story followers. I'm feeling the love people! Yeah! As of chapter 16 there were 26 reviews! Thank you so much for your reviews on chapter 16: Scarlett (in all your loyal loveliness, always a pleasure), Kathryne Buzolic (you make me cry you are so sweet), The Yoshinator (yes you are amazing) and Bluebearsweetie (you who waits so patiently, even when I take forever to update!). Also, I have to include highflyer101 who reviewed chapter 15: be as long as you would like with your feelings...there's always room for such nice comments. You guys are the reason I write. - RS


	18. The Nature of Cooperation

A/N: Thank you all for your patience. I'm wireless once again and my first act in celebration is to get the new chapter up for you. Enjoy.

**Chapter 18 – The Nature of Cooperation**

_In which the Lady and the DI do as they are told._

_While Sherlock was interrogating his 'client', elsewhere in the flat Lestrade was thinking about the nature of police work and of loyalty whereas Lilly was thinking about the nature of trust and of love…_

After Sherlock left the bedroom, Lilly began to hear the indistinct murmur of voices, but she couldn't make out what they were saying, let alone who it might be. She was _very_ curious. It had to be that the new client was someone known to her for Sherlock's warning to make any sense. She'd hardly have to fight her emotion with logic if it was a complete stranger. The fact that he indicated that it would be difficult for her to do so, meant to Lilly that this client was most likely one of two people, her father or Ron. If she hazarded a guess, she would say it was probably Ron. She couldn't imagine who else it could be and she just couldn't picture her father coming as a client to consult with a detective. Sherlock was right. She did just want to run out there and throw herself at Ron, so they could hold onto each other as reassurance that they were both alright. Good call, Mr. Holmes, she thought.

Restraining herself would be difficult, but not impossible. Especially as Sherlock had as much as promised that he would bring her out to see who it was soon, telling her that she might wish to be dressed for said appearance. With that thought, she decided to look through the bags that Sherlock had handed her in the kitchen and which she had the presence of mind to scoop up before he hustled her down the hallway. Lilly picked up the first shopping bag and upended it onto the bed. Then she did the same with the second one. As she did so, a small piece of paper fluttered down on top of the pile of clothes.

Thinking perhaps it was the receipt, she picked it up to place it on Sherlock's dresser. Once she had it in her hand, she noticed that it wasn't a receipt at all. There were a couple of questions written in scrawling handwriting with black pen. Sherlock's?

_Who are these Davids: Bowie and Tennant? Importance? Should I know this?_ _Check with John._

Lilly stared at the paper for a moment, wondering what, if anything, it meant. Then she realized that this was a note Sherlock had written to himself as a reminder for some reason. Shaking her head, she chuckled a bit at the thought. Just one more adorable thing about Sherlock. His apparent cluelessness about such common information. She resolved that she would have to introduce Sherlock to series two through four of Dr. Who and perhaps buy him a David Bowie greatest hits CD or something. It was the least she could do. The man had saved her life after all. Humming 'Major Tom' under her breath, she thought about what Sherlock had said about not giving into her emotions and listening only to her mind.

He had asked for her trust. And she would give it to him. She had never trusted anyone before in her adult life as she trusted Sherlock. Unquestioning, without doubt, openly, willingly. One part of her wondered at this trust. Was it wise? She hardly knew the man. And yet, another part of her reflected that she did know him. Deep down in her bones, in her heart, in her mind, she_ knew_ Sherlock Holmes. And if she was honest with herself, as she always tried to be, she had to admit that she was falling in love with him. Her instinct told her that he was feeling something for her also. But what? Was it love? Was it responsibility?

What about Molly? That question was one that had been bothering Lilly deeply since the kiss that John had interrupted. She felt guilty about Molly's feelings for Sherlock. Molly said that there wasn't anything between them, but Lilly wasn't blind. She might not admit it out loud, but it was obvious that Molly thought she was in love with Sherlock. Lilly's instinct told her that Sherlock did not return Molly's feelings and that in fact Molly's feelings were more of a crush on an unobtainable man than real love, but that did not mean that Molly wouldn't be hurt by the developing relationship between Lilly and the man Molly thought she loved.

Yet, there was affection there. On both sides, whether Sherlock wanted to admit to it or not. Lilly had seen it from the first moment Molly had stepped into the bedroom last night. She remembered thinking that they were a couple. And she remembered how disappointed she herself had felt at that thought. Obviously, she had been feeling something for Sherlock from the beginning. While she idly went through the pile of clothes on the bed, she thought it might not be a bad idea to analyze her own feelings to make sure that she was really feeling what she thought she was and not 'crushing on an unobtainable man' herself.

_7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%_

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade was irritated. Sherlock did this to him all the time. Wiggled a hook in front of his face, with a worm on it that was impossible to ignore, then shoved him off to wait. Maddening. Donovan withholding evidence? Lestrade was floored by the very idea. Sally could be a bit abrasive at times, and there was surely no love lost between her and Sherlock, but Lestrade knew that Sally was a straight up police officer. A good one. She was smart. She was thorough. He was proud to have her on his team. Still. Sherlock was never wrong. Petty sometimes, overbearingly egotistical always, but never wrong. At the least, Lestrade knew, he wouldn't go making accusations about Sally unless they were true. Sherlock and Donovan might not get a long, but Lestrade was pretty sure Donovan had started it, over what, he had no idea and quite frankly didn't want to know. He did know that he hated getting stuck between his loyalties to the both of them. He owed Sherlock more than he could say, but he owed Donovan too. She was a member of his team.

He could hear the voices from the other room. Yep. That would be the driver then, Ron Somers. Someone else who, like himself, couldn't seem to follow orders when it came to getting help from Sherlock Holmes. He knew everything they were discussing so far, so he started tuning the voices out and thinking about what Sherlock had accused Donovan of.

There were questions begging to be answered then. Had Donovan gotten a text but not followed up on it? Why didn't she? Did she know what it was? Did she even question it?

Sitting there at the kitchen table, he played absentmindedly with a spoon while he thought back to his office this morning when Victoria Burke had showed him the text, trying to remember Donovan's actions.

He had taken the mobile from and had written the numbers down on a note pad. He remembered asking Donovan to use her mobile's GPS thingy to look up the coordinates, which she did. Efficient as per usual. Now that he was thinking on it, though, he had noticed that Sally had seemed real quiet, uncharacteristically quiet, and had even looked kind of sick before she handed her mobile over to him with the location pulled up.

He had thought to ask her if she was feeling okay, but they had been so busy trying to get to the scene that he hadn't. Besides, with Ms. Burke in the car with them, it wouldn't have been unprofessional.

So Donovan's being so quiet coupled with the sick look…seemed to add up to…Damn it! Why did Sherlock Holmes always have to be right!?

_7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%_

Lilly was standing in front of the bedroom mirror wearing the loveliest outfit that she had worn in a long time and feeling very grateful for Sherlock's amazingly good taste. When she first began to consider the pile of clothes she had emptied on to the bed, she had been feeling rather shy about the whole idea of Sherlock picking out clothes for her, coupled with the worry about what he, being a man, might have thought was appropriate. But then she remembered that she trusted him with her life, so trusting him with some clothes shouldn't be that hard of a stretch, and began sorting them.

If she had not been in love with him before checking out the clothes, she definitely was now. Everything was beautiful, made with soft and silky materials in lovely shades that complemented her coloring perfectly. With the added wonderfulness that it all fit her exactly. Even the shoes of which there were two pairs, one a stylish black pump with a 2 inch kitten heel and the other a really comfortable pair of black flats. All in all there were what amounted to at least 3 complete outfits: a pair of straight leg blue jeans with a soft emerald green cowl neck sweater; a black tailored suit (pencil skirt and matching jacket) paired with a jade green silk blouse, and finally, the one outfit she just had to wear, a long floral skirt in softly patterned blues and greens, that coordinated with a cerulean blue tank top under a cardigan of the same color. The skirt swirled a bit when she spun around and twined around her bandaged ankles. It felt so feminine and lovely. After the last day and a half of wearing either just a bra and knickers or something of Sherlock's it wasn't much of a problem choosing. Lilly wanted to be comfortable, she wanted to feel pretty, and yes she wanted to Sherlock to think she was attractive.

It was a most complete outfitting. Sherlock had even included socks and nylons (which she chose to pass on, deciding to go barefoot for a bit longer) along with a hair brush and a hair clip if she wanted to wear it up. The Hello Kitty pajamas were adorable. The man had thought of everything. The undergarments coordinated with the colors of the sweater and the blouses, for god's sake. Lilly blushed a bit to think of Sherlock buying 'unmentionables' for her, but then again, he had a habit of seeing her in them anyway, so she thought she should probably get over that hang up. That thought gave her the uncontrollable giggles.

"…_what condition she was in, Mr. Holmes? Answer me!"_ Her laughter was cut short by the sound of Ron's voice. So loud, he must be yelling, Lilly thought. Then it was quiet again. It felt heavy, this quiet. Lilly had her hand on the doorknob and was about to turn it, when she remember Sherlock had told her to stay there until he came for her. Suddenly, waiting wasn't going to be easy.

_7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%_

"Oy, way to go, Sherlock. Make the man angry why don't you?" Lestrade mumbled under his breath when he heard Ron Somers threatening Sherlock. Not that he blamed the man, he'd wanted to punch Sherlock himself a time or two. Who didn't?

He had been intermittently tuning into the conversation that was going on in the other room while he waited and it seemed to him that Sherlock was a tad fixated on Victoria Burke. Almost like he considered her a suspect, which was ridiculous. What motive could she possibly have to do this to her own sister? And what about the fact that she has been getting texts from someone who could only be the abductor. He had to agree with Ron Somers on this. Victoria Burke wasn't behind it. It just didn't make sense. But then why was Sherlock making out like she was?

Lestrade promised himself that as soon as possible, he was going to find out everything that the consulting detective knew about this case.

He also knew that he was going to have to get to the bottom of the Donovan text with Sherlock. After all, it's not like he could just call or text Donovan about it. She'd want to know where he got the information, if not right away, she'd come to it. At this point, he was still disobeying direct orders, being in Sherlock's flat in the first place, so he couldn't just say, oh by the way, Sherlock mentioned that you got a text, what's that all about, eh?

The voices died down to a murmur and before he knew it, Sherlock was sliding open the door and motioning for him to come out. Finally.

As the DI approached Ron Somers, he thought perhaps it might not be a bad idea to remind the man that they were both in the same boat. Disobeying direct orders, so to say. It occurred to him that they could both lose their jobs for being here. A little wink wink, I won't tell if you don't agreement seemed to be in order. Just so.

_7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%_

When Sherlock opened the bedroom door, he was surprised to see Lilly standing there frowning at him. He noted that she was dressed and that she looked very appealing, though she tended to look prettier when she was smiling. His first thought was that she hated the clothes or perhaps he had done something wrong. He could not imagine what it could have been. Probably _everything_. How was he to know what would upset her? Obviously there were limits to his genius. Was he supposed to get John to write him up some guidelines or something equally ridiculous?

Once again, Sherlock was feeling out of his depth which was a sensation he abhorred. Normally. With Lilly for some reason, he did not particularly care for the feeling, but was willing to put up with it to try to make her happy. To get her to smile at him. Hmm. Just lovely. How delightful! He rolled his eyes to the ceiling while releasing a heavy, world weary sigh, wondering, not for the first time, what was wrong with him. Next he would be out on the streets searching for little old ladies to assist in crossing the road and volunteering his free time trying to find homes for stray puppies.

He was tempted to just leave the room and shut the door behind him. Maybe come back in a few minutes. Surely she could not be angry with him indefinitely? Before he could do so, as if she had somehow sensed his intention, Lilly launched herself across the space that separated them and threw herself into Sherlock's arms. He caught her, more surprised than anything, and held her against his chest as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She was so very changeable!

She pulled away to look up into his face, still not smiling, but not frowning any more. That was good sign, he thought. He might be able to figure this whole female emotional rollercoaster out after all. No. That would be highly doubtful. He had enough trouble trying to figure John out sometimes. He had a feeling he would never figure Lilly out. Hormones and all that whatnot.

"What did you say to Ron to upset him so, Sherlock?"

Ah. She was concerned about what she overheard. That did make some sense. It was almost logical. She was upset at him for making Ron Somers angry. "It was necessary for me to assess the level of loyalty that the man had for you. Necessary for your safety. I determined which buttons needed to be pushed. And so I pushed them."

Sherlock watched Lilly's face while she worked it out. It was most satisfying to see that she had a mind and wasn't afraid to use it.

"Oh. You were testing him. You purposely baited him to make him angry, so you could see how loyal he would be to me?" When Sherlock nodded at her, the smile he so longed to see broke out on Lilly's face. Old ladies and puppies. Indeed.

* * *

So. What did you think? I was worried it was going to come across as filler, but there were several things that needed to be cleaned up, so think of it more as light housekeeping. I'm so sorry about the wait. But the good news is I'm almost done with chapter 19 and mostly through chapter 20, which I will tell you now...it's a sexy Sherlock chapter, but he's not being sexy with Lilly. Think on that one for a while. Ha!

Thanks to all the loyal Coordinates followers out there. Yes we are coming to the end at some point, but I promise I'm doing everything I can to insure that you won't be disappointed. It's going to be hard to let go of these characters, I love them all so much.

So here's where I get mushy with my lovely reviewers: Scarlett (true, everything can't be JM's doings, hey, he's a busy guy), Bluebearsweetie (all I'm sayin' in good guess), nhaquyen (welcome, so glad you like Sherlock & Lilly, I do too), The Yoshinator (a very astute question), and Kathryne Buzolic (you are amazing).

I have to say that the guesses have been very revealing for me. I'm loving it! Also, as I've mentioned before, I will not cheat you all by throwing in a random character at the end and say, oh yeah, it's him! That's cheating and I won't do that to you. It is very possible to figure out who is behind this based on the information in the story. In fact, if you haven't gotten it by now, I haven't done my job correctly. At this point, Sherlock is pretty sure who, it's the why that's getting to him. So we will be moving on soon from who done it, to why they did it. Which is really the interesting part. - RS


	19. When You Eliminate the Impossible

**Chapter 19 – When You Eliminate the Impossible…**

_In which Sherlock states the case and Lilly begs to no avail._

Ron Somers couldn't believe what his eyes were telling him. He'd heard this Sherlock Holmes bloke was really good at what he did, but he never imagined he would be a conjurer able to pull Lilly out of thin air, yet here she was standing in the same room as him, smiling her sweet smile at him with tears shining in her eyes. It was Lilly, yet it wasn't.

If he didn't know her so well, he might not have recognized her. Never mind the clothes; it was more subtle than that. Slight changes in her manner, the way she stood there, calm, relaxed, more sure of herself. Ron also noted the confident way she was holding that Sherlock's hand. As if it was a comfortable, familiar thing for her to do. This was not at all in keeping with the Lady Lilly he knew. Oh, what had his Lilly been up to? As if she read his thoughts, she blushed a bit. Shaking his head slightly, acknowledging the inevitable, he opened his arms and then Lilly was in them.

His Lilly…with her arms wrapped around him and leaning her head against his chest. This terrible nightmare began to seem like a fading dream. She was actually here. Safe. The relief was so great, he couldn't contain it. Tears formed in his eyes and ran down his cheeks, but he didn't care. His Lilly was here. He was actually holding her. His crying seemed to release her tears, the two of them clinging to each other weeping. In all the outcomes he had imagined, her being safe was the only one he had let himself believe in. Now that he knew she was, he thought of all the other ones that could have been. His arms tightened protectively around her and he made a silent vow to himself and to the memory of Lady Adele in that moment. No one was ever going to hurt Lilly again.

He pulled her away from him slightly so he could look her over; to assess what trauma she had been put through. But when he looked down into the smiling, tear stained face of this girl he so adored, he was so overwhelmed with giddy relief, he had to laugh out loud. This made Lilly laugh too, her sweet self-deprecating chuckle filling the room. "Oh, Ron, it is so very wonderful to see you! I've been so anxious about you."

"Anxious about me? I've been out of my mind with fear for you, and here you are all safe and sound," Ron pulled her close and whispered in her ear for only her to hear, "holding hands all cozying like with possibly the most irritating man in the world. You've some explaining to do, missy."

With that, he released her, winking as he did so. This made Lilly blush a deeper shade of pink, but also filled her with a sense of contentment. She made a point not to look directly at Sherlock so as not to give Ron any more reason to tease her. She had a feeling it wasn't something he would let go of easily. He had some very definite ideas about Lilly's love life or rather the obvious lack of one, and wasn't shy about sharing them.

It was a touching reunion, watched over by John, who was beaming, Lestrade who was grinning from ear to ear, and Sherlock who was wearing a slight grimace of distaste due to the overflowing emotion. However distasteful he may have found it, it did not stop him from monitoring the interaction between Lilly and Ron.

Lilly was smiling. She was happy, that was good, Sherlock thought, but she was not smiling at him. She would not even look at him. It annoyed him. The sensation was similar to the one he had experienced from time to time when John was busy with some girl and ignoring him. Similar, but different. Different in more intense way. Different in a more confusing way. Whatever it was, Sherlock did not like it. Scowling and in a huff, Sherlock threw himself into his chair, drawing his legs up to his chest and settled into a pout. John and Lestrade both noticed and rolled their eyes in unison. Into this wonderful scene there came the sound of the doorbell. John looked at Sherlock. Sherlock looked at John.

"Molly." They both said at the same time. John with an upbeat tone, Sherlock sounding resigned. John bounded down the stairs to let Molly in.

At the same time, Sherlock's mobile indicated a text message:

_**Not sure what you did to the tosser. Looks like he's run home to mummy. lol Will hang here for a while. Not looking like he'll be leaving tho. – Bix**_

The message distracted him from his pout. He chuckled as he read it, very satisfied with the outcome. Quickly he typed his reply:

_**Remaining not necessary. Good work. Inform about expenses. – SH**_

So. Mr. Thomas, when given grace, goes to visit his mother. Sherlock was fairly sure they would have no further trouble from that man.

_Everyone deserves at least one chance to redeem themselves… _

As those words passed through Sherlock's mind, he glanced over at Lestrade, remembering the chance he himself had been given once upon a time, by a man with little reason to believe in him, but who had done so none the less. Lestrade, feeling Sherlock's gaze upon him, looked up and smiled his open and trusting grin at him. Yes, Sherlock thought, there is a good man. One of the best. Who actually believed that someday Sherlock Holmes might be a good man too. Sherlock inclined his head in Lestrade's direction, with a tiny wistful smile playing across his lips, silently acknowledging the sentiments that he would never likely be able to express aloud. Lestrade's expression changed to one of questioning. Before he could speak, Sherlock turned away and the moment was gone. No doubt it was for the best.

7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%

The evening was turning into an impromptu party at 221B. John and Lestrade had gone out to get a curry carry away, along with a stopover at the fish and chip shop, to be followed, no doubt, by a quick stop to pick up some liquor. Molly and Lilly had gone into _the_ bedroom to 'talk', as Lilly had stated to the room in general before they disappeared down the hallway. At this point, Sherlock was not even sure he could still consider it _his _bedroom. It was quickly becoming _Lilly's_ bedroom. He was a aware that he was perhaps acting a bit childish, but he determined that he was feeling _hurt_ at Lilly's continued dismissal of his presence. She had been ignoring him even before Molly had arrived, all wrapped up with Ron Somers, but since Molly's arrival, Sherlock had noted that Lilly had avoided being near him, and frankly had not even looked at him once. Not even when he had loudly expressed his dismay during the tedious 'curry verses fish and chips or both' discussion, thinking surely she would at the least look over in his direction. She had not. He had no idea what that was about, though he had an inkling that the 'talk' had something to do with him. Most irritating.

Ron Somers was sitting on the sofa watching like a hawk as Sherlock moved around the room. Sherlock was doing his best to ignore him. He thought perhaps the man wanted to ask about his intentions toward Lilly. That was one conversation Sherlock had no desire to have. At least not tonight. Possibly not for a long time. In all probability, never. Actually, Sherlock did not want to think about _his intentions _toward Lilly at all. Did he even have intentions? Ridiculous. Of course he did not. He was married to his work. The work was all that was important. There was no room for distractions. Sentiment, emotion, _feelings_…all just useless distractions from logic, intelligence, from using the mind, using the brain. And yet…No. He was not going to even start that mental debate.

This case was coming to the conclusion, but it was not as yet complete. He had to find the one theory that answered all the questions. Nevertheless, he strongly suspected Victoria Burke, in spite of the strong disagreement on this point by both Lestrade and Ron Somers, based on the texts she had received. There was something that he was missing. Something simple. He just knew it.

All thought was pushed aside with the return of John and Lestrade with food and drink. Lilly had come back out of the bedroom with Molly. They were both smiling and giggling. Much to Sherlock's surprise, Molly came over to him and gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, adding a reassurance in his ear that she really liked Lilly and she knew that they would be happy together. Sherlock pulled back and frowned into Molly's face, wondering what she was talking about. Happy? Why would they be happy? Why would they not be happy? What in fact did happiness have to do with anything? Humans, so confusing. He was recused by Lilly coming and taking Molly's arm, practically dragging her over to stand by Lestrade in the impromptu food line in the kitchen. Sherlock turned from watching them to find that Ron Somers' eyes were still keenly focused on him. In a way which could almost be considered threatening. Hmm. Interesting.

Soon everyone except Sherlock had plates and glasses and the talk was focused on the food. Sherlock was standing at the window, lost in thought, staring into the night. What was it? This something simple he was missing?

Suddenly, he felt a light touch on his elbow and he turned to find Lilly standing there, holding out a plate for him. He shook his head, but she wasn't having any of that. She pulled him over to his chair and pushed him down into it, perching herself on the arm. Still holding the plate, she filled the fork and held it out to Sherlock, keeping a stern eye on him as she did so. With a disgusted grunt, Sherlock took the fork from her and put it in his mouth. Then he handed the empty fork back to her, thinking that she would then leave him alone. But she just repeated the actions until the plate was empty and she finally decided that Sherlock had been tortured enough.

The whole episode had amused everyone else greatly. John and Lestrade in particular had found it immensely humorous. Sherlock was not amused. He also was not angry, annoyed nor irritated at Lilly. Odd that. If he had to put a label on what _feeling_ he was experiencing, he would have to go with _confused_. Lilly confused him to no end.

Time to get his mind properly settled. He stood again, straightening his suit jacket, and hence straightening his thoughts, and began pacing the room with his arms behind his back. "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. We know that whomever was behind Lilly's abduction, it was someone known to her. Someone close to her. The abduction was focused on her personally. As noted by the location where she was left. She was not taken as a pawn in someone's plan to get to her father. This fact is not arguable. There has been no ransom request. No threats have been made toward Lord Henry. No threats have been made against the family. Someone with a political agenda would not likely chose to abduct Lilly in hopes of getting something from her father. Ergo, there was no logical reason to abduct Lilly to use as a wedge against her father."

Ron Somers spoke up then, "There was no logical reason to take Lady Lilly at all."

Sherlock stopped his pacing and nodded at Ron, "Precisely, Mr. Somers. There was no _logical_ reason for this abduction at all. So taking that thought one step further, you see that the reason for the abduction was naturally_, illogical_. Which is one more negative mark in the 'get to her father' line of reason."

"You still think it's Victoria Burke, don't you?" Lestrade sat forward, shaking his head. "I just don't see it, Sherlock. It doesn't make any sense."

"Oh? Perhaps you see my focus on her as illogical? Hmm? Where you not listening, Lestrade? Illogical! Not logical. A bit not right? Oh ho! I rest my case."

"That's all well and good, Sherlock, but how then do you explain the texts she's been receiving. I grant you that perhaps she's being used by the abductor, or is perhaps involved in some way. But it's not like she's sending those texts to herself." Lestrade sat back, arms crossed on his chest, feeling that he had just scored a point on Sherlock.

"Say that again. The last part. Just as you said it the first time…" Sherlock's gaze was burning into Lestrade.

Lestrade rolled his eyes, used as he was to Sherlock's dramatics, and repeated it, "it's not like she's sending those texts to herself."

Suddenly, Sherlock's eyes became unfocused and his body tensed. Then he waved his hands around his head as if clearing away cobwebs and startled everyone by shouting, "Oh!"

"Sherlock? What is it?" John asked, recognizing the signs of Sherlock having an insight.

"Get out!" Sherlock gestured to the door, expecting everyone to leave so he could think. "Now. I have to think."

"Well really, Sherlock, in this case I think it might be easier if you left. I know you prefer the sofa, but perhaps it might make more sense if you went. This room is a bit full of people you know."

"How could I miss that fact John?" Sherlock's disgust was very evident. "Fine. I will leave."

The sound of the bedroom door slamming was the last they heard from him for some time.

_7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%_

After a while, the party started breaking up, and Sherlock was still shut up in the bedroom. Lilly quietly suggested that perhaps Molly could give Greg a ride home. After a minute of shy surprise, they both looked at each other and thought it sounded like a very good idea. They were giggling together and it was a bit obvious that the DI had had a few too many, but that Molly didn't mind that.

John was tidying the kitchen and doing some washing up, after refusing Lilly's help. Ron was making noises about having to leave himself, but not wanting to leave without Lilly. He still wasn't sure about that Sherlock character. But he would have to be blind not to see that there was something between Lilly and him. Not his first choice of a man for Lilly, but the heart did what it did, and Lilly's heart was a bit of a determined one. He had always known that when she finally settled her heart on some lucky man, it would be for keeps. He just hoped he didn't have to kill Sherlock for hurting his Lilly. Mind, he would if the bloke broke her heart.

Lilly for her part was troubled. She didn't like the fact that Sherlock was zeroing in on Victoria. She didn't know how much she should or could tell him. It was family business. And one did not just go airing family business to anyone. But this was Sherlock. Oh, she was so confused. She wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to tell him nothing. All she knew for sure was that she wanted him to stop the investigation. No good would come of it she was sure. What did it matter if it was Victoria? She wouldn't press charges against Victoria. She couldn't. There were things that Sherlock couldn't possibly know and in the end, they weren't important. Best to just let it go. But she knew that Sherlock wouldn't just let it go. He would have to know _why_…

Into this indecision, stepped Sherlock Holmes. He walked directly over to Ron and asked if he knew Victoria's address. When Ron provided it, Sherlock took out his laptop and began a search. Using pictures of the street view of the road outside of Victoria's London flat, he began checking for possible ways to get inside her building, and questioning both Lilly and Ron on the security of the building. Lilly answered the questions knowing that he would be unable to use anything that she told him. What he heard did not please him. Victoria's flat was on the sixth floor of a building that did not have balconies, conveniently unsecured back doors, or underground parking. It did however boast 24 hour CCTV monitoring with a security guard on premises at all times. Not good for a man looking for a weakness to exploit in order to break into the flat.

Next he questioned them on Victoria's habits. Lilly declined to answer any of those questions, but Ron, now that he had some idea of where Sherlock was heading with all these questions, couldn't help himself from providing any and all information he could. He told Sherlock all about Victoria's club life, her tendency to 'sleep around', bringing men she hardly knew home with her frequently. Even the type of men that she was normally attracted to. Lilly tried to shush Ron, but he was determined that Sherlock understand the type of woman that Victoria was.

Sherlock sat back in the chair with a distracted look in his eye. He had an idea how to gain access to Victoria's flat. It was not a pleasant one, but it was a good one. It was also very clear to him that Lilly would not like it at all. He knew she was withholding information from him, important information that would no doubt clear up much that he still felt was unclear in this whole case. Well. There was nothing to it. He had to do what he had to do in order to get the information he needed.

"Mr. Somers, do you have a good idea where Victoria might be found on a night like this?" Sherlock looked directly at Ron and refused to look at Lilly. Childishly, he was pleased to be able to ignore her as she had ignored him so pointedly most of the night.

"There are a few places that she goes to regularly…but I'm thinking the best bet would be the one that's right around the block from her flat. It's a club called _Intrinsic Pandemonium_. She goes there a lot. The crowd is mostly young city professionals looking to hook up with other young city professionals, with the occasional posh trust fund baby mixed in."

"Excellent! If you would allow me a moment or two, I should be ready to go." Sherlock suddenly stood and headed down the hallway to the bedroom, firmly shutting the door behind him. In less than two minutes later, a completely different Sherlock Holmes reappeared.

Lilly was taken aback by his appearance. He was wearing a fresh black suit with a crisp white dress shirt and what looked like the tie from a prestigious public school. His hair was slicked back off his forehead and he looked for all the world a posh city banker type. Oh, no, she thought. He's going after Victoria. She had to stop him.

Before she could come up with a reason other than, please don't, I don't want you too…Sherlock had gone directly to Ron and was asking him for directions to the club. Apparently, Ron was on board for the take down of Victoria, as he not only was willing to give him the directions, he was in fact offering to take him there.

They were half way to the door when Lilly panicked. She couldn't let Sherlock go to find Victoria. She just couldn't. Partly it was not wanting to betray a family trust, they had all been protecting Victoria for so long, it had become second nature, but mostly it was because she was apprehensive about Sherlock meeting Victoria face to face. Especially if Victoria was in her club mode. What if he found her attractive? How could he not? Victoria was a force of nature, she was beautiful, she was a goddess…She was all the things that Lilly was not. There were few men who if they had to choose between Victoria and Lilly who wouldn't choose Victoria. Frankly, Lilly rarely made any impression at all. And normally, she didn't care. But with Sherlock…the thought of losing him to Victoria was more than she could bear.

She reached out and grabbed his arm. "Sherlock, please. I'm begging you. Don't do this. Leave it be. It's alright. I am not hurt and no good can come from you meeting Victoria. Please don't go."

Sherlock looked down into Lilly's frantic eyes and hesitated. He did not wish to upset her, but he had to do this. He had to know _why. _Ron was already down the stairs and heading to the street. Taking a deep breath, he gathered Lilly in his arms and held her close to his chest. He knew this was going to make her unhappy with him, and it might be a long time before she smiled at him again, but it had to be done.

"Lilly. I am sorry to upset you. But I must go. I will return as soon as possible and I hope that you can see the logic in my decision." Then he leaned down and kissed her so gently, it was almost painful in its sweetness. When he released her, she swayed a bit. "Go to bed, Lilly. Do not wait up for me. I do not know how long I will be. Do not be concerned. I have asked you before to trust me. I am asking that of you again. Can you do that for me?"

Dazed, Lilly nodded. Sherlock turned and disappeared down the stairs. She would trust him. Trust that he knew best. Suddenly, she was weary. So very exhausted. Yes. She would go to bed. That was a good idea. She was going to need her rest. Because she had just resolved within herself that no matter what happened or didn't happen with Victoria, she was not letting go of Sherlock without a fight.

* * *

A/N: So there you have it. If you didn't know it already. Victoria Burke. As I stated before, the who is no longer the focus, now it is the why. My projection is at least 2 more chapters in this story. The next one will be a bit of a departure, but we will get to really see Sherlock in action. I'm finding it quite fascinating to write. Cunningly brilliant Sherlock hidden behind a sexy Sherlock facade. Still in character. Oh yeah. I'm liking it, hope you will too.

Thank you to all the followers to Coordinates. It's a pleasure to know that someone is enjoying what I'm writing. Once again, my reviewers, you guys make my world go round and always bring a smile to my face to read your thoughts.

I am toying with the idea of a sequel, not sure about it. But Lilly's an established character for me now and I can see more adventures for her with Sherlock and John. If you think it's a good idea, let me know. If you think it's a terrible idea, I would like to know that also. I'm also getting pressure on the home front to write a one shot with Sherlock as either a unicorn or a manicorn. They have a lot of faith in my abilities, I guess! hehe - RS


	20. Intrinsic Pandemonium

A/N: warning for mild sexual content.

**Chapter 20 – Intrinsic Pandemonium**

_In which Sherlock stalks his prey and conceals his disgust in pursuit of data. _

When John came out of the kitchen, he was surprised that Ron Somers had left and also that Sherlock wasn't there. It was just Lilly, standing alone at the window watching the street, deep in thought.

"Is everything alright, Lilly? Ron left, I see. Where's Sherlock? I thought I heard him talking in here." John became concerned when Lilly didn't turn from the window. He couldn't help but admire what a strong woman she was to have come through everything she had been through in the last day and a half and still want to take care of people, along with having kept her sense of humor. But now he wondered if it had finally caught up with her. He went to her and taking her by the shoulders, he turned her to look at him. "What is it, Lilly? You can talk to me if you want. It might help."

"I couldn't stop Sherlock from leaving. I said that I trusted him. But I didn't, not really. I should have told him. Then he wouldn't have gone." Lilly looked so miserable that John didn't help gathering her in his arms for a hug.

Once again, in the same day even, Sherlock had left him behind. John tried not to let his irritation at Sherlock bleed into his voice, which he kept calm and reassuring. "Where did he go?"

"He went to find Victoria. I think he's going to try to seduce her or something to get into her flat." She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. The sigh seemed to indicate that she was resigned to whatever Sherlock was doing, but that didn't mean that she liked it.

So, John thought, Lilly was upset about Sherlock going to 'seduce' Victoria Burke. Perhaps even a little jealous? Well. That was an interesting development. Sherlock with not one, but two women in a single day? John was still struggling with the idea of Lilly and Sherlock. It truly boggled the mind. Really, he leaves for two days and Sherlock becomes some kind of Don Juan? Frankly, he was quite sure that Lilly had misunderstood. Sherlock wasn't the type to go around seducing anyone. The idea of it was kind of ridiculous. But as Lilly was so upset, he refrained from snorting in laughter at the thought of Sherlock out on the prowl for women.

"Ah. I see." He said, although he didn't. Not really. "And what did he tell you to do?"

"Not to worry and to go to bed." Lilly sighed again. Another resigned sigh.

"Then that's what you should do." John did think the poor girl could use some rest. If Sherlock went out, and he told her to go to bed, there was really no reason for her to stay up. God only knew when Sherlock would be back. From where ever it was he went. To do whatever it was he went to do. Just thinking about it was making John tired, and he hadn't had a lot of sleep in the last few days himself. It would be good to sleep in his own bed. That thought brought him up short. Where was Lilly going to sleep? Actually, it was kind of obvious. "You might as well sleep in Sherlock's bed. It's not like he'll be using it tonight. Come on, Lilly. Let's get you to bed."

With that John led Lilly down the hall to the door of Sherlock's room, and giving her a kiss on the cheek, he left her there. "Try to get some sleep, okay? If you need me, yell. I'm just up at the top of the stairs. Goodnight, Lilly"

"Goodnight, John. Thank you for everything." She went into the bedroom, found the Hello Kitty pajamas, changed into them, and climbed into Sherlock's bed. Lilly burrowed her face into the pillow that smelled of him. She didn't think she would be able to sleep, but being exhausted, she did. For a few hours any way.

As John walked up the stairs to his own bed he realized that he never asked Lilly what she meant by "I should have told him"…

_7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%_

When Sherlock first entered the club called Intrinsic Pandemonium, he did not wish to be noticed and so he was not. Hiding in plain sight. It was one of Sherlock's rather more developed skills. If he wanted you to see him, you would. If he didn't, you would not. Taken one step further, he was also able to compel most people to perceive what he desired them to perceive. It was simple, yet effective, with a success rate of 97.42%. Give the average person what they expected, and they would not look for what they did not. He was very proud of his success ratio.

Perception had a large part in Sherlock's plan. The plan with which he would achieve access to Victoria Burke's flat. As plans went, it was a good one. He estimated that the chances of it being successful were reasonably better than 98%. There was always the chance randomness of human nature that had to be factored in. Along with timing. It was a bit later in the evening than would make for ideal conditions, but he had to work with what was available.

So, even though this _club_ was the last place he would ever choose to be, at this moment it was the only logical place to be. If one wanted to locate their prey, one had to stalk them. If one wanted to capture their prey, they had better use the proper bait. For this particular trap, the bait was Sherlock. Ron Somers had been most helpful with the information he had provided regarding Victoria Burke. Most helpful indeed.

The interior of the club appeared to be one large cavernous room, with dim lighting, loud music, and filled with people shouting to be heard over the music. He stood near the door and surveyed the crowd, working on controlling his face from expressing the distaste he felt for the desperate humanity filling the room, all of them struggling to 'hook up'. Once he got his distaste under control, he began formulating an overall impression of the club and its patrons, and concentrating on locating his prey.

It did not take long. There she was on the other side of the room, surrounded by several admiring men, and no other women. Sherlock could not hear her laughing from this distance, but he could tell she was, draped around a man who looked to be your average city banker type. While Sherlock observed them, the man leaned in and spoke into the woman's ear. Whatever he said apparently did not go over well with the woman, who pulled away from him with a pout on her beautiful face, and turned to wrap herself around the man standing on her other side, helping herself to a sip from his glass as she did. Ah, yes. Another banker type. So. Money. Attended a posh public school. The tie. Always a nice indicator of a man's background. Much like the one that Sherlock was currently wearing, based in part on Ron's information. In fact, said tie was at that very moment choking him, physically as well as metaphorically. He hated wearing ties. However, the tie was one which Sherlock could in all honesty wear, as he had actually attended that particular boarding school. He reached up to loosen it and unbutton the top button of his dress shirt. Running a hand through his hair, which he had slicked back for the occasion, he accidently dislodged a few curls which fell onto his forehead. He only hoped that would make him more appealing as he was not about to waste time fixing it.

It was time to make his presence known. Straightening his spine, which put him to his full height, he began to project an air of elegance, confidence, with a touch of arrogance. To all who looked at him, it was obvious he was _someone_. This was precisely how he intended them to perceive him. He began in a slow circle of the room. He casually passed through the part of the room where Victoria was standing, but did not look in her direction, before moving on.

Once he had the attention of most of the women in the club, Sherlock selected two who were standing near the bar to use to enhance his appeal. He noted they did not seem to mind his joining them. But then, he knew that before he joined them. They were both physically attractive, one a redhead, the other brunette. He gauged that attention to the redhead would be most likely to annoy his target subject, whom he noted with his peripheral vision was now watching him. When he reached across the bar to pick up the whisky he had ordered, he brushed up against the redhead ever so slightly, while he quirked up the right side of his mouth, bringing the dimple on that side into play. He engaged the two women in conversation, which naturally only required minimum use of his brain, the majority of which was focused on the tall, willowy blond, with the icy blue eyes who was by this point focused completely on him. He did not have to look directly at her to feel her attention. In fact, he made a point of looking nearly everywhere but directly at her, which was not necessary to monitor her anyway. Sherlock had excellent peripheral vision. Oh, she was getting impatient for him to notice her. Good. Very Good. Impatient was just how he wanted her.

Sherlock smiled seductively down at the redhead, he thought she said her name was Shelly, who impulsively wrapped her hand around his arm and leaned in. He noted that she smelled slightly of roses. He had no intention of following up on her attraction to him, and it was time to disengage from her and move things along. Before he realized her intent, she was writing her number on a napkin and in a brilliant move Sherlock could not have strategized better, she leaned the length of her body along his and slipping her hand under his suit jacket, tucked the napkin into the pocket of his dress shirt. She even gave his chest a little pat over the pocket before she removed her hand. As her hand came out from his jacket, he wrapped his fingers loosely around her wrist, and then very slowly releasing his hold, he enticingly trailed his fingertips along the soft skin on her inner wrist. He felt her pulse pick up as he smiled warmly down at her. Shelly smiled back. She assumed he was attracted to her, whereas he was merely pleased with his own good judgment in picking her to help him set the stage. She had assisted him much more than he had expected. In a generous impulse he decided he would pass her number along to John. She did seem like a fairly nice woman, if a bit 'up for it'. John might get lucky. Actually, Sherlock thought, taking another look down at Shelly, there was not really much _might_ to that, best change that to _would_. Not a mental picture Sherlock wanted to dwell on. Indeed. Definitely time to move along.

Sherlock noted that the little interchange with Shelly had not been lost on Victoria. There was a frown on her beautiful face, and her eyes were shooting daggers at Shelly. There was no longer any doubt that he had Victoria's completely focused attention. She was practically panting in his direction. It was time to move in for the capture. Though, it would not do to rush it. Something like this required finesse. He was pleased to note that though she was still surrounded by several of her admirers, she had removed herself from the man she had been wrapped around and was now standing slightly forward from the men around her, her body language becoming closed down toward them, and increasingly accessible towards Sherlock. Her head was tilted down slightly, and she was watching him from under the fringe of her bangs.

With his drink in his left hand, he moved away from the bar, idly watching the people who were supposedly dancing, if you could call it that, building on the impression that he was alone, that he was not waiting for anyone and that he would not be opposed to being approached by the right woman. Stopping to stand facing her, but not looking at her, he took a sip of his whisky, and then did a few slow contemplative strokes under his chin with the knuckles of his right hand as he surveyed the crowd. He continued to monitor her in his peripheral vision.

Now she was watching him more boldly. Her stance was quite frankly inviting him to approach her. One of her hips was shot out in his direction, with her hand resting on it, nonchalantly bunching up the material of her already quite short dress to reveal a few more inches of her incredibly long legs. Her head was tilted back, exposing her throat, which she ran her fingers slowly down, as her eyes locked on him, with no doubt in them as whether or not she liked what she saw, it was obvious she did. Very much.

He turned partially away so he was in profile to her and continued to look around the club, his brows slightly lowered, head tilted a bit, so it appeared he was viewing things from an angle. He was a tall man, but the way he stood made him appear even taller. Sherlock looked completely at ease, but in all actuality, he was performing a very carefully choreographed dance. The same dance he had been performing since he had allowed himself to be noticed. He purposely played with his bottom lip with his teeth, pulling it under his top teeth and letting it out again. Repeating the action several times while differing the timing of the movement and the amount of lip that disappeared. Alternating it with an occasional quick flick of the tip of his tongue to the corners of his mouth. He was aware that these actions called attention to the scar on the right side of his lower lip and that most women were intrigued by it for some incomprehensible reason. He groaned inwardly, wishing he could hurry things along a bit. He was developing a headache and the music was quite frankly horrendous.

He turned his head suddenly and met her gaze directly. In a manner that let her know that he had been aware of her watching him for some time. He allowed a small smile to quirk up the right side of his mouth. Her eyes widened in delight. Then, as quickly as he had met her gaze, he broke off contact and began to let his eyes travel the room.

He became aware that a young woman dressed completely in black with alarmingly purple hair was determinedly approaching from his right. Normally, he would begin evasive maneuvers to avoid her, but when you are bait, you have to stay camouflaged and in this situation any and all attention would only enhance the desirability of the bait. So. With an inner sigh, Sherlock engaged in a flirtatious tête-à-tête for a few minutes with Purple Hair, who was thankfully called away by friends before he would have been forced to physically disentangle various body parts of hers from those of his own. The thought of the smear of deep purple lipstick on the white shirt particularly bothered his sense of fastidious grooming. Not to mention the stench of musk that had come off her like a wave. Sherlock shuddered inwardly. Just lovely. Once free of body parts not belonging to him, along with the cloud of musk, he did a quick status check on his target subject. Ah. The Purple Hair incident had annoyed her. Good. Though she was still waiting for him to come to her. Sherlock smiled to himself. Oh, no. He was not going to her. She was going to come to him. In ninety seconds or less, he calculated.

He watched as one of the men stepped forward and touched her elbow. She jerked her arm away and glared at him. Then she did what Sherlock anticipated that she would. She left the group of admirers and approached him directly. Tall, graceful, confident, he could admit that some men might find her physically attractive, beautiful even. Personally, he found her beyond repulsive. It took all his control to keep up the illusion he had been building that he was physically, and more essentially, sexually attracted to her. If there had been any other logical way to trap her, he would have used it. But he knew there was not. So here they were.

"You're new, aren't you?" Her voice was light, a slight purr to it. When Sherlock turned his body so it was completely facing, and slightly tilted towards her, communicating openness to her attention, she laid a single finger on his jacket sleeve and tapped him twice playfully. "I'm Victoria. And you are?"

Sherlock looked down at her, though she was a tall woman wearing heels, he still had a few inches on her, and smiled his half grin which brought out his dimples and ran his eyes ever so slowly down her body before he brought his gaze back up to her face and looked directly into her icy blue eyes.

"Arthur. Arthur Davids." Keeping his voice low and husky, careful not to break eye contact, he reached out slowly, using just his index finger to pick up her finger which was still resting on his sleeve, and bringing it his lips, placed a feather light kiss on its tip. He could feel the anticipation of pleasure to come vibrate through her. He smiled seductively down at Victoria Burke, quite pleased with himself. Target subject engaged. Commencing capture. "And I do believe the pleasure is all mine, Victoria."

Five minutes later found them at a tiny table for two in the dimmest corner of the club. Victoria had spoken with one of the waiters and voila, there they were. Alone. Or as alone as you could get in a noisy room full of people. Sherlock indicated to the waiter before he left them to keep an eye on their drinks and bring new ones as they finished them.

Sherlock thought it might be helpful to test one of his theories, so he asked, "Do you come here often?"

Victoria nodded and added with a laugh, "I feel as if I live here sometimes."

"Well, it's a good thing I came in tonight then. My lucky night." Sherlock grinned down at her, giving her the impression that she was the reason he was feeling so lucky. "I walked by last night, but I didn't come in. If I had, would that have been my lucky night?"

Victoria giggled. "Maybe. I was here last night. Most of the night. In fact, it was a good crowd. I was actually supposed to be doing something else, but I got distracted by my friends."

"Oh, poor _something else_…had to get on without you. Pity." He made a silly sad face at her while watching her closely. "What were you supposed to be doing last night? If I may ask?"

Victoria's scowled suddenly and spat, "Don't feel sorry for the _something else_. It was nothing important. Besides people are so unreliable! It just makes me angry thinking about how you go to all kinds of trouble and make all these plans and it only takes one idiot to go and ruin everything. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Sherlock smiled inwardly at the confirmation of his theory. Outwardly, he met Victoria's eyes with concern. "Of course you don't. But I do have to agree with you. People are most unreliable."

"Changing the subject… So. _Arthur Davids_. What do you do here in the city? Whatever it is I'm sure it's fascinating." She smiled seductively at Sherlock, gesturing with her drink. Victoria Burke was turning out to be exactly what Sherlock had known she would be. Arrogant. Self-absorbed. Spiteful. Angry.

To Sherlock's well concealed disgust, she was leaning so far into his personal space, he felt she really did not need to bother with her own chair. Quite frankly her perfume was so strong it was stinging his eyes. Outwardly, Sherlock remained open in his body language and flirtatious in his demeanor.

"I'm a consultant actually. People consult me." He leaned back in the chair casually; his arm draped over the back of Victoria's chair, while she leaned forward, her drink in one hand, the other hand resting on Sherlock's thigh.

"Really. And what do these people consult you about?"

"Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that. The usual. I have a wide range of expertise. When someone is out of their depth, they turn to me for assistance."

"And are you any _good_?" It was obvious by the way she stroked her hand along his leg that the question was intended to have a double meaning.

"I am actually _very_ good. I would even venture to say I am the _best_ there is." Sherlock smiled wickedly. This woman had no idea how good he really was. But she was going to find out. Just not in the way she imagined.

"Oh yes, I can tell that about you already." She purred, giving his leg a squeeze, a bit higher up than she had ventured thus far. Sherlock was very pleased with his self-control. He did not even jerk his leg away, let alone grab her by the throat and forcibly remove her from his person. Ah, he thought, if wishes were… But needs must. Time to get a few questions cleared up. The biggest one: Why Lilly?

"You know, Victoria, you look very familiar to me. While I'm quite sure that I have not met you before, as that is something I could not possibly have forgotten, could it have been a sister perhaps?"

"No. I don't have a sister." She laughed then, a light tinkling sound. "Can you imagine a world with two of me in it?"

The impression Sherlock got was that Victoria thought she was more than enough for any world. Who would need two? Indeed. He rather thought this world really did not need even the one of her, two would be horrific. He reached forward and ran his hand across her shoulders lightly, "Oh, I do not believe I could. So. No siblings then?"

At that question, Victoria made a grimace of distaste. "Well, I do have a step sister. But we are nothing alike, and I doubt that she would have made an impression on you in any event. She's quite vapid. Boring, really. Extremely so. A rather non-entity actually."

"So, obviously she's not at all like you then? Really. Tell me more. I have a brother myself who is quite a pain to be around. We could commiserate."

"Oh! So there are two of _you_ in this world! Lucky us! Perhaps I could meet him sometime."

Sherlock gave that a thought and honestly chuckled at the mental picture it produced. "I rather doubt that either of you would enjoy it. You are a _woman _after all."

"I see. Not my kind of man then?" Victoria giggled. "Not like you."

"I can safely say that we are quite different, my brother and I. But you were telling me about your oh so boring step sister. Please feel free to unburden yourself."

"She would definitely not be your type. She's a _good_ girl. Very proper she is. A twenty five year old virgin. Not that anyone would want her even if she was offering, which she's not. Her name is Lilly, but she couldn't be less dramatic." Victoria paused, having some trouble forming a thought. She was getting rather tipsy by this point. She frowned and started again, waving the hand holding the drink around, it threatening to spill. "Not like a stunning lily, a stargazer or something, no she's like one of those little tiny bell flowers, lily of something, I can't recall…tiny and insignificant, but poisonous, deadly really…in her case of course she would kill you with boredom or_ kindness_…ugh. The Valley! That's it. Lily of the Valley. Did you know that tiny little flower was a killer?"

"Yes. The toxicity levels could be enough to kill an adult. Causing serious damage in any case. All parts of the plant are extremely poisonous. Ingestion of any part could lead to sudden alterations in cardiac rhythm and possible death." Sherlock noted the confused look on Victoria's face and realized he had stepped out of his _Arthur_ character. To distract her, he leaned in and brushed her ear with his lips.

She was easily distracted, a stroke here, a caress there, which was helpful, as thus far, she had not noticed that she was consuming three drinks for every one of his. It did help that he had an extremely high tolerance for chemistry altering substances and that she had already been drinking before he arrived.

"I love the way you say 'toxicity levels'. Very sexy, Arthur. Say it again. Like you mean it." Victoria tilted her head, so Sherlock could get closer.

"_Toxicity levels_." He breathed into her ear as she leaned into him. He could feel her relax even more. Her hand was snaking up his thigh again. Just before he would have felt compelled to move away as she was getting a bit too personal and any further action of said hand would make impossible for Sherlock to control his disgust, she sifted and wrapped her hand around his neck. He breathed a sigh of relief. Victoria believed he sighed because she started stroking the hair touching his collar.

Sherlock leaned in and whispered, "Perhaps we should go somewhere a bit more private? There are lots of things I could say that you would like to hear."

"I can imagine." She whispered back, putting her empty glass on the table and picking up the full one the waiter had just dropped off.

All in all Sherlock felt the plan was moving along nicely. Part one, engaging the subject, had already been achieved. Part two which involved getting her more than a little drunk was almost complete. Part three would involve accessing Victoria's flat, with her basically incapacitated, and hopefully too drunk to attempt to engage him in intercourse. Preferably out cold so he would be free to search at his leisure.

He needed her drunk, but not too drunk to take him home with her. He decided that she would be in the perfect state by the time she finished the current drink. Time to move on to part three of the plan.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update. I actually wrote 2 versions of this chapter, the one above and another one with Victoria's POV intermixed, but I decided that her POV was a bit too pornographic for this story, so I dropped it. She's not a very nice person. And after all, we don't need her to tell us that Sherlock is sexy. So! There you have it, in case you didn't already know...Victoria Burke is the baddie. But why, you ask? The answer to that is actually very interesting. And I'll tell you. In the next chapter. ;)

Thank you to all the loyal followers. I appreciate the support for the story. Thanks to the reviewers on chapter 19: Moi (welcome), Bluebearsweetie, The Yoshinator and CheekyChemist (welcome and thanks for keeping me honest). Scarlett and Kathryne...I miss you!

On a side note: I have been getting pressure at home to write a fanfic with Sherlock (in character) as a unicorn. I'm not seeing it, but they really want me to and for some reason think I can carry it off. Really? Huh. What planet are they from? So. I made a deal. There is a poll on my profile about this. I said that if I got 15 'yes' votes, I would attempt it. Please feel free to visit my profile and vote...which ever way you feel. It's a blind and I won't know who voted what, so no fears that I can hunt you down. Ha! - RS


	21. Lady Lillian Tells What She Knows

Warning: content contains mild references to unhealthy psychological behaviors including: sexual behaviors and several types of abuse issues

**Chapter 21 – Lady Lillian Tells What She Knows **

_In which Lilly confesses the Burke/Fairfax family secret to John._

John awoke and looked at his alarm clock. 2:59. Lovely. He wasn't sure what had waked him, but something had. A noise? Maybe. He got up and went to the door of his bedroom, opening it a crack and looking down saw that the lights were burning in the flat. Sherlock must be back. When the sound came again, he realized that was not a sound that would likely be Sherlock-made. The kettle. Probably Lilly then. On a whim, John decided to go down and make sure she was okay. He still didn't understand what, if anything, their relationship was, but if Lilly was having some emotional trouble coming to terms with her abduction, he really rather thought that Sherlock might not be the most comforting of persons. And he had offered his services as a listening ear earlier. Hoping he wasn't about to walk to something he shouldn't be interrupting; John slipped on his pants and a tee shirt and went barefoot down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Lilly was sitting at the table, staring down into a steaming mug. John's nose picked up the scent of hot chocolate. Sherlock wasn't in the room, and he got the feeling he wasn't in the flat at all. John couldn't help but smile at the picture she made sitting there with her hair all mussed up, wearing those pink and white pajamas with that cat all over them. She looked like a little girl. Now he was here, he didn't want to startle her and was preparing to clear his throat when she looked up at him and smiled slightly, like she had been caught out doing something she shouldn't have been doing. He could see the tracks of tears on her cheeks and the shine of them in her eyes. Oh, Sherlock. What have you done?

"Did I wake you, John? I am sorry." With an air of determination, she reached up and wiped the tears away with her hand. "I couldn't sleep and I thought some hot chocolate might help. Would you like some?"

"That would be grand, Lilly. I can't remember the last time I had a hot chocolate. I didn't even know we had any in the flat."

She motioned him to sit at the table as she stood and went to the cupboard, pulling down another mug and set about preparing him a cup. John couldn't get over the fact that she looked like she had always been here. Getting things ready in their kitchen. He felt guilty about it though, she was technically a guest. But not guilty enough to stop her. It was nice to be waited on, instead of always being the one doing the prep and serving.

"Yes. Well, it was behind some clean beakers in that upper cupboard, next to some kind of solvent and a bottle of acid, but I did look it over very well and there does not seem to be an issue with cross contamination. I guess if there is, we will find out soon enough." She laughed then and John had to join her. "Though I'm not sure that it wasn't put there to hide the jar containing the preserved organ in it that is lurking in the very back of the cupboard. It looked a bit like a liver perhaps, but I'm not that great with anatomy."

At John's grimace, she laughed again. For being such a little thing, she had a very pleasant low chuckle. "Please forgive me for having a rummage around your kitchen, John. You know how it is when you feel you really need something…well, I really needed some chocolate. So I had a look see through the cupboards. I must say, this is quite the interesting kitchen. I was a bit surprised at some of the things being kept in the refrigerator, but then I imagine Sherlock needs them, or they wouldn't be there."

Well, living with Sherlock didn't seem to be fazing her in the least, John thought. The he added aloud, "There are times when I think we should just get another refrigerator, but knowing Sherlock, he would just spread his experiments and random body parts to both of them so what would the point of that be?"

As Lilly brought the mug to the table and placed it in front of John, he reached out impulsively and took her hand. He had a thought that maybe he could explain Sherlock a bit to Lilly and that might help her not to be so worried about what Sherlock might or might not be getting up to with Victoria. But where did one begin to explain Sherlock? Perhaps it would just be easier if he let her tell him what she was upset about and go from there. Maybe it wasn't even Sherlock she was upset about. Looking up at her, making sure she met his eyes, he said, "Lilly, why don't you tell me what's bothering you? Even if there is nothing I can do to help, sometimes just talking helps."

Lilly slipped her hand free and resumed her seat at the table. She had nodded when John had spoken, but now she was just sitting there staring into her mug, not saying anything.

John thought perhaps he needed to get the ball rolling here. Reaching out he took Lilly's chin in his hand and raised her face so she would look at him, adding with a calm, gentle voice, "Earlier you mentioned that you didn't tell Sherlock something. And that if you had, he wouldn't have left. I don't want to pry, but if it's weighing on your mind, it might help to talk about it. I've been known to be a good listener."

Lilly smiled sadly and nodded. "I know. You have been wonderful through all of this, John. It's just that it's not easy to talk about. I'm not even sure where to start."

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere." He released her chin, picking up his mug and settling in like he was prepared to be there as long as necessary.

Lilly sat back in the chair and tried to order her thoughts. She couldn't remember if she had ever spoken of this with anyone other than her family. The urge to protect was so strong, but she knew that the time for making excuses and covering up was over. Victoria had gone too far this time. True, she didn't know for a fact that Victoria was behind the abduction, but if Sherlock was convinced, that was as good a conviction for Lilly. She believed in his abilities so much…still, she mused, it wouldn't hurt to ask John what he thought.

"Sherlock seems to think that my step sister was involved in my abduction. You know him the best, John. Is he likely to be wrong about this?"

"He's not perfect, Lilly, but if he thinks it, then it's because he figured it out. And he's very good at figuring things out. So. I would have to say, no, I don't think he's wrong about this. She has to be involved in some way, or Sherlock wouldn't be wasting time on her. That's exactly what he would call it too. Wasting time. I'm sorry. That's probably not what you wanted to hear, but I can't lie to you."

"No. It's okay. Actually, I think so too. I just wanted a second opinion." Lilly paused and smiled slightly, "and after all, you are a doctor."

"As a matter of fact I am." John grinned back at her.

"Okay." She took a deep breath as if to steel herself and began with a question. "Do you know what NPD is, John?"

"I'm guessing you aren't referring to near pupillary distance? Then I would hazard a guess based on your comment that I'm a doctor, along my understanding that we are about to discuss your step sister, and go with Narcissistic Personality Disorder?"

"Excellent guess, Dr. Watson. Yes, Victoria has NPD. The majority of the behaviors she exhibits fall within the subclass of 'amorous narcissist' or 'sexual narcissism', which presents with erotic and exhibitionist tendencies, and includes histrionic personality disorder features, which technically she has also been diagnosed with. How familiar with NPD are you, John?"

He quickly reviewed in his mind what he knew about the disorder. "Well it's not within my scope of practice, but I have heard of it. Are we talking pathological NPD?" Lilly nodded sadly, and John wondered what the poor girl had been through with a sister like that.

As far as he could recall from his studies, which he would be the first to admit were not extensive in the field of psychology, pathologically narcissistic people tended to be controlling, blaming, self-absorbed, intolerant of others' views, unaware of others' needs and of the effects of their behavior on others, and insistent that others see them as they wish to be seen. They want admiration, adulation, attention and affirmation from everyone. All of it. And they do not like to share it anyone else. Taken a step further, when the truly pathological narcissistic doesn't get the response they want, they respond with anger and hostility and sometimes manifest a desire to be feared and to be notorious.

Ah. He thought. Could Victoria have been angered enough by some imagined slight on Lilly's part to have arranged the abduction of her to teach her a lesson? If she was in fact what Lilly was saying she was, then yes, it was entirely possible. This could make her a very dangerous woman. If Victoria has gone this far, what's to stop her from going further. John looked over at Lilly and had to admit, if _everyone_ loved Lilly as Ron Somers claimed, and which John was very willing to believe based on his own experience of her in the few hours he has known her, Victoria would have every reason to be jealous of her. Hate her in fact.

"So you think that she did this because she was upset with you getting some attention she thought should have been given to her?"

"Something like that. We've had a rocky relationship ever since our parents married. One of the reasons my father stopped being affectionate to me is because it upset Victoria so. If he so much as kissed my cheek or hugged me, she would fly into a rage and start screaming and throwing things. So he stopped. The other reason would be the fact that I remind him of my mother and her loss was so painful to him that distancing himself from me made it that much easier for him to avoid being affectionate to me."

"Oh, Lilly, that's terrible."

"It's okay, John. Really. I've had years to get over it." Lilly shook her head to clear it of her father and the pain that produced and continued on the subject at hand.

"Apparently it can be inherited. NPD that is. From everything that I've heard it sounds very much like her father also had NPD. At least, that's what Constance believes and blames for his death. He was a mountain claimer and an adventurer. He always had to be taking risks and ultimately he climbed the wrong mountain. Or rather not the wrong mountain, but he had the mistaken belief that he of all people could climb it even when he was advised on all sides not to attempt it. I think that the fact that my father was so settled and averse to taking risks of any kind is what attracted Constance to him. She had had enough excitement for a lifetime with her first husband. Not that my father doesn't have some narcissistic tendencies, we all do to some extent, but with Victoria we aren't just talking about someone who likes to admire herself in the mirror. Or just thinks that she's the most beautiful person in the world. Victoria has a completely full blow personality disorder which messes with her reality. And her reality is very different from the reality the rest of us live in. In addition, it's worse when she doesn't take her medication."

John sat back, a confused look on his face. "NPD isn't treated with medications, only talk therapy."

"Yes, that's true. But in Victoria's case, as with many people with NPD, she suffers from depression and anxiety. She is supposed to take medications to treat those conditions and when she does, she can keep the NPD almost manageable. When she's off her medication, which I suspect she has been for months, she gets uncontrollable. That's when the clubbing and the drug use starts up again and the reckless sexual behavior gets out of hand. I worry about her safety, John. Bringing strange men home with her every night. If they even make it there. She's told me she doesn't mind doing it in an alley if that's closer. She gets so obsessed with having sex. Like it's the only thing that proves she's capable of being loved. Which makes sense because of her fath-"

Lilly broke off suddenly, and looked mortified about something. John didn't want to pry, but it might be important, so he decided he had to press her.

"Because of what, Lilly? It's alright, you can tell me." John smiled reassuringly at Lilly in hopes of calming her.

"I really can't believe I'm talking like this, John. I'm a so called prude and yet, here I am, discussing my step sister's sex life with you, without even blush!" Lilly looked down into her mug and John got the feeling she was going to avoid answering him. Just when he thought that he might have to prompt her again, she took a deep breath and keeping her eyes on her mug she continued, "I've never spoken of this with anyone, John. No one knows that I know. And I don't want them to. It would only upset my father and embarrass Constance that I know about it."

Lilly stopped and looked at John as if to ask that he not repeat what she was about to tell him. He nodded slightly. They both knew that if he thought Sherlock needed to know, he would tell him and Lilly was okay with that. At least that way, she wouldn't have to tell Sherlock this herself. She bent her head over her mug again. She couldn't look at John while she told him what she was about to.

"Over the years, from bits of conversations I've accidently overheard, I have gotten the impression that Richard Burke was physically abusive of Constance during their marriage and that he had numerous affairs. What's more I know, based on comments that Victoria has made, and things that she has personally told me, that he began treating Victoria in a highly sexual manner when she was very young, leading to an incestuous relationship between them when she entered puberty, which then continued for years until he died. Once when she was very drunk she told me about it in graphic detail. She described things that I cannot repeat, John, but the essence being how wonderful it was that he loved her best, that she was his princess, and how jealous it would make Constance if she knew."

If silence could be deafening it was in the moment after Lilly finished speaking. The pain she felt for Victoria was so evident in her voice and the horrible actions of Richard Burke made John so righteously angry he just wanted to punch a hole in the kitchen wall with his fist.

"Now can you see why I can't bring myself to hurt Victoria any more than she has been? I know that if she did this to me, the abduction, the drugging and everything, she has to answer for that. But I can't make her a public spectacle. I will not press charges, John. I can't." Lilly broke down then and started quietly crying. It hurt John to see her in so much pain and have not a clue how to help. "There has to be some way to get her to stop this behavior that doesn't involve her being arrested. I can't be a party to that. That's why I didn't want Sherlock to continue investigating. One of the reasons I didn't want him to go after her tonight."

"One of the reasons? What are the others?" John had the grace to look into his own mug while he waited for her to answer. When she didn't answer, he looked up to see the blush on her cheeks and her avoiding eye contact with him while she wiped away the tears. Ha! So it _was_ about Sherlock and Victoria. "A bit of jealousy, perhaps? Concern that Sherlock might become attracted to Victoria?"

It was playing dirty, but he thought maybe by making her express her feelings for Sherlock out loud, along with the fear and jealousy she had that he might be out seducing Victoria, would help make a dent in her pity for Victoria. If that was possible. He was feeling a bit sorry for her himself, in spite of what she had done to Lilly. Although, from what she had just told him, Victoria would be the one trying to seduce Sherlock. Which he was quite sure would not be happening. Not in this lifetime. Not in a million years. Oh good god, this was getting beyond ridiculous. But once again, John's laughter was stopped at the sight of this lovely young woman, sitting at the table beside him, nodding in response to his question and looking miserable at the thought of Sherlock with Victoria.

John decided he just needed to know, once and for all, what exactly was between Sherlock and Lilly. At least, from Lilly's point of view. He straightened in his chair and met Lilly's eyes directly. "You love him, don't you?"

"Of course, John. How could I not?" Lilly answered, with a shy smile, as if it was impossible to answer any other way. "He's Sherlock."

In that moment, John unwittingly joined a growing number of people who had made a vow to do everything in their power to protect Lady Lillian Fairfax. A group that now included Ron Somers, Dr. John Watson and perhaps most surprisingly of all, a man named Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter and it wasn't too boring (no Sherlock, but he will BE the whole next chapter). I thought I should set the stage for what Sherlock's going to be discovering on his own in Victoria's flat. It was a difficult decision as to what exactly Victoria's problem should be, but Pathological Narcissism just seemed to be the theory that fit all the facts. I'm not a Dr, so I apologize if I get any of this completely wrong, but I do try to be informed as much as possible when writing about a subject.

Sending the love out there to Scarlett: Hope you are feeling better and getting home soon. And know that I'm thinking of you everyday, kiddo. You were the first to break the dry spell of reviews for this story and I thank you so much for that. I don't know where I would be without my dear reviewer!

In case you people haven't noticed, I'm very fond of my reviewers, one might almost say "attached". You have no idea what it means to me to read your thoughts: what you liked, didn't like, want to see more of. I would like to thank the reviewers for chapter 20: Scarlett, CheekyChemist, Kathryn Buzolic and The Yoshinator. Also, The Yoshinator brought up the idea of making a separate one-shot with Victoria's POV, which I am considering doing. If you think it's a good idea, let me know. If you don't want to review, but still want to give me your opinion, PM me. - RS


	22. Working the Pandemonium - An extra

To the 10th Hatter: just a quick response to your question of where Lady Lillian's name came from. It's actually a play on the title of one of ACD's stories:_ The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax_, from the short story collection "His Last Bow". It's a great tale, but not as cool as _The Adventure of the Dying Detective_, which proceeds it in the book. _Dying Detective_ is in a word EXCELLENT, but I strongly recommend the reading of both. Thanks for asking!

**Warning: Rated MATURE for strong sexual content and strong language. **

_For those of you who asked: Victoria Burke's POV. I didn't think it was strong enough to stand alone as a one-shot, so I just decided to go with a bonus chapter. _

_If you don't care for this type of thing, please don't read it. There will be nothing in terms of plot development that you will miss if you don't read the following. Any plot development or information has been or will be covered in other chapters. The only advantage would be to understand Victoria's POV._

**Coordinates Extra - Working the Pandemonium**

It was unbelievable! Mummy was angry at her. Again. But it wasn't her fault! It was Lilly's fault. She was supposed to be there! Why wasn't she? Where was she? If she just would have done what she was supposed to do, Victoria would have let them find her. How was she supposed to get them to find her now? Everything was in shambles. By the time they found her now, it would be out of Victoria's control and Lilly would get all the attention. As usual. Poor poor Lilly. Look what she's been through! Ugh. It just made Victoria sick to think of it.

No one would have a minute to spare for Victoria. It would be all about Lilly. And here she, Victoria, had been the clever one, she had thought of everything. Her plan should have been foolproof. Apparently there was no proof against all fools, like that knobhead dealer she'd hired for the job. She knew this was his fault too. And after she paid him already. That was wasted money. Lilly wasn't smart enough to get out of this on her own. Must have done something to get that hired arsehole to help her. No doubt somehow made the knobhead feel sooory for her. Just like she was always making people like her. Why anyone would like little sweet oh so boring Lilly was just something that Victoria could not understand. She was BORING! Uninteresting. But now here everything was in ruins and it was all Lilly's fault! No one ever saw that Lilly was to blame for anything. They just fell for her fake sweetness and then blamed Victoria for everything.

Victoria was so angry at Lilly, who just had to go and ruin her lovely plan. The whole idea had been to get back at Lilly for that whole charity ball stunt last month, and if she got the credit for finding her that would have just been bonus. Just the thought of a whole bunch of strange people walking in and seeing Lilly in just her underwear…well that was so perfectly delicious and served her so right. Now Victoria was wishing she had told the knobhead to take all her clothes. Naked Lilly. That was a thought! Really, she should have told the hired arsehole that he could just as well shagged her while he was about it. Poor shy Lilly; she would have been so mortified! Pity it didn't work out that way. Although, Victoria had a sudden thought, maybe the knobhead dealer had done it to Lilly anyway. There hadn't really been anything to stop him. After all, Lilly had to have still been out of it by the time they got to the building. Plenty of time for him to have a bit of fun. Lilly certainly wouldn't have put up a fight. Victoria let a sly smile play on her lips at the mental picture she got of the man striping Lilly naked, laying her back on the cold floor and then shagging away all that dull virginity.

Oh, fine. Wishing rape on Lilly was probably going a bit far, even for Victoria, but she was just so angry at her! Lilly had no business going to that ball with Henry. The Royals were there for god's sake! Prince Harry, no less. Henry should have taken Victoria when Mummy had come down with one of her headaches at the last minute. And Mummy shouldn't have tried to blame Victoria for not answering her phone, she should have known that the headache was coming on and planned ahead better.

She supposed that she should have just stuck to the plan and gone to the police last night. But was it her fault that Reggie had come in with all those fun goodies and distracted her? It had been ages since she'd had a good popper. Naturally, as a thank you, she had let him get her off right there at the table. Reggie did have ever so skillful fingers. That had been fun! By the time she remembered about Lilly, it was late and she was too wired to be bothered. This morning should have been soon enough. After all where was Lilly going to go? She certainly wouldn't have wanted to leave that building without her clothes. Sweet precious Lilly. She'd die before letting anyone see her virginal wares.

But it was Victoria who was mortified by the cock up this morning! There she was, all ready to be the dear caring sister come to the rescue of her poor silly sister who let herself get abducted like an idiot, and the fuckin' cow wasn't there! Talk about embarrassing. Though, that dishy DI Lestrade was so cute while he was being flustered having to explain that Lilly was still missing. The way he kept trying to comfort Victoria made it almost worth it. Maybe, Victoria thought, she'd have to look him up later and let him 'arrest her'. Umm. Coppers and handcuffs. She hadn't played that one for a while.

Still. She didn't know where Lilly was. Mummy was breathing down her neck about it. And so Victoria Burke was pouting. She needed some fun to distract her. But nothing here was remotely interesting. Same people, same chatting up. Even Reggie was getting to be a bit of a bore. Plus it was his fault for distracting her last night that led to the whole mess of things today. When he leaned in and suggested that they go back to her place, she just couldn't be bothered with him anymore. Really, he should just go home to that completely uninteresting cow he had the misfortune to marry. She'd done a line of Crystal E a bit ago, but even that wasn't helping. She needed some excitement. Something wonderful to happen. She turned away from Reggie and went to Nigel. Nigel might be able to interest her in something. He was a bit of a naughty boy, she thought as she lifted his glass to her lips and took a sip. She wanted to shag someone. Badly. She giggled at that thought. Actually she desperately needed a BAD shag. Something a bit nasty. A bit rough or maybe just dangerous. With someone new. Someone interesting.

Victoria was just thinking that the evening was going to be a total waste when she noticed a man. One whom she had never seen here before, trawling the room. My, my, she thought, he's a yummy one. Tall. She liked them tall, being as she was tall herself. His dark hair with the very pale skin, the few curls that had escaped to his forehead. He was definitely fit, and worth checking out. She watched him circle the room, smooth and confident. She liked confident men. She rather thought perhaps he could be a bit naughty too. He was decidedly on the pull. She wondered if he might be the type to like it a little rough. The idea intrigued her.

Victoria assumed that he would notice her. How could he not? She was the most attractive woman in the club. She was always the most attractive. Really couldn't help it. She was just born beautiful. Just when she thought he would look over and notice her, he didn't. Instead, he went to the bar and started a chat up with those two slags. The redhead was really so obvious. Why was he wasting his time on her?

Oh God! He was sexy. That devilish little grin. Those delicious dimples. She just knew he was wasting his time with that redhead. All he had to do was look over and he would see her. She had just been thinking she needed a treat, and then he appeared. Like he was there just for her. He was there for her. He would be hers. He was hers.

She watched him leave the redhead at the bar. Good, she thought, that one would have only disappointed him. He needed someone better suited for him. He needed her. God he was gorgeous. What a great looking couple they would make. No one would be able to take their eyes off them. The two most beautiful and sexy people in the club.

She knew he would notice her. That he would come to her. Claim her. And she would allow him to. Just the thought of his long fingers touching her was making her hot. She might even let him have her here in the club. Up against the wall in the ladies, maybe. Hot, rough and fast. The added chance of getting walked in on would make it risky, another of her turn ons. Then again, slow and sensual might be better, at her place, where they could take their time. And do it all night. He looked like he could go for hours. Lean like a whippet. All pent up aggression and force. She was getting hotter with the thought of it.

She continued to watch him, opening herself to him. The way he was playing with his lip, god, it was making her crazy. All she could think about was pulling that lip into her own mouth, nipping at it with her teeth, running her tongue along it.

Then he looked directly at her and the physical force of it almost undid her right then and there. She was sure that he would be coming to her now. But then he looked away. Oh! He was a naughty one! She shivered in anticipation. He was going to play with her a bit was he?

She was just been considering going into 'hard to get' mode, when her thoughts were scattered by that thing with the purple hair, who had the audacity to practically crawl her way into his clothes. She just wanted to run over there and slap that purple haired cow silly. By the time he had disengaged himself from the disgusting woman, Victoria was beginning to doubt that he would approach her. It was unthinkable that he would not, yet he was not coming to her. She couldn't understand it. Then Nigel had to go and touch her and he almost broke the sexual connection she was forming with Mr. Gorgeous. She pulled away from Nigel with a glare and decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. Enough of this back and forth. She knew what she wanted and she knew that the tall dark man wanted it too.

His name was Arthur Davids and he said that he was a consultant of some kind. And that he was the best at what he did. Victoria believed him. He was suave and confident and he had a way of making her insides turn to jelly just with a touch. Victoria was aware that she was drinking quite a bit, but she was having such fun! Arthur was so sexy. His eyes were absolutely _wild_. Victoria couldn't get over how intense they were. Then he mentioned he had a brother, and Victoria spent a minute or so fantasizing about being with two Arthurs at the same time thinking how very sexy that would be! But then Arthur as much as admitted that his brother wasn't into women, so that little fantasy evaporated. Plus, she thought, most men didn't like to have to share her.

Somehow they got on the subject of Lilly. How or why, Victoria couldn't recall. But Arthur had been so sympathetic, she been able to vent a bit which was wonderful. So great to have a man that she could talk to. Among other things, she thought with a sly smile. She couldn't wait to get him in bed. Or against the wall. Anywhere, she really didn't care. Just so it was soon. She felt like she was going to go crazy if she didn't have him very soon. The way he whispered "Toxicity levels" in her ear. Good god, she almost had an orgasm right then and there. Not that it would have been a bad thing, Victoria thought. Orgasms were one of her favorite things.

* * *

A/N: I hope you can still respect me after reading this! I frankly can't believe I wrote it, let alone posted it. Not that I have anything against sex. I really don't. It's just…oh bother. I'm going to shut up now.

Next chapter: Sherlock's search is on! Much more my normal style. Whew!


	23. The Search is On

**Chapter 22 – The Search is On**

_In which Sherlock finds what he expected but is forced to reevaluate the theory of Queen._

The time had come for part three of Sherlock's plan. Accessing Victoria's flat in order to search for the data which would support his theories. The first order of business was disentangling Victoria from his person so he could stand. Then he was forced to re-entangle with her in order to support her so she could stand and walk. This consisted of draping one of her arms around his shoulders and snaking his arms around her torso and under her arms. Still, he was finding all this physical contact to be annoying. While Sherlock was struggling to keep them both upright, Victoria for her part was giggling, as she ran her free hand along his upper body and kept trying to kiss his lips.

Sherlock was willing to do many things in the pursuit of data. Kissing Victoria Burke was not one of them. He tried to tell himself that it was due to the fact that he was repulsed by her. Which he was. Strongly. In fact he felt that a good rummage through a malodourous and slimy skip would be preferable to kissing Victoria. However, he kept feeling pestered by the strange notion that kissing Victoria would be improper. He concluded it was related in some way to his affections toward Lilly. How he had come to that conclusion, he was not completely clear on, but some instinct seemed to be pointing in that direction. In addition, this same instinct made him aware that Lilly would not be well pleased with him if he did. _Even_ in the pursuit of data. Thus far, he had been able to avoid a full on, lip to lip encounter. Unfortunately that did not take into account the number of times her lips were in contact with some part of his anatomy, or the times he had been forced to resort to a brushing of lips on various parts of hers. But lip to lip? No. Sherlock was very proud of having been able to avoid that. In spite of the fact that Victoria was quite insistent in her attempts. His awareness that kissing his mouth, among other things, was becoming an increasingly desirable goal of Victoria's only enhanced the pleasure it gave him to deny her access to it.

He knew from the address and what Ron Somers had told him that Victoria's flat was right around the corner from the club. They would not have to bother with a cab as it was in truth a very short walk. Excellent. Sherlock concluded that it would become increasingly challenging for her to continue the efforts at snogging him if she was forced to stay on her feet. He had no intention of carrying her.

As they made their way across the room towards the door, one of the men that Victoria had been with earlier in the evening stepped in front of Sherlock blocking his way. Sherlock noted that it was the man whom she had been leaning against when he first saw her that evening. The one she had turned away from. Now the man was standing there, in their way, assessing Sherlock in a way that gave the impression he didn't care for what he saw. In fact, he was actually looking a bit aggressive towards Sherlock and a might possessive of Victoria. Sherlock was confident that any confrontation would end in his favor, so he was not intimidated in the slightest. However, it would only serve to waste time and prolong this already tedious process of extracting Victoria from the club and on to her flat. The man reached out his hand to pull Victoria away from Sherlock, who allowed the man his attempt to do so, as he had felt Victoria's body stiffen in his arms and he knew then that the man would not complete the motion. He was correct. Before the man could grasp Victoria's arm, she swung her arm out and let her open hand connect with the side of his face, leaving a nasty red hand shaped mark.

"Go way, Reggie!" Victoria slurred loudly at the man, who was shocked by the slap he had just received. "Leave me 'lone! 'ad your chance, but – so boring! Gh 'ome to your f-ing cow wifey!"

Reggie backed up, giving Victoria a look of extreme distaste, and jerked his chin Sherlock's direction as if to say, _she's all yours and welcome to her_. Then he turned and stalked back to his friends without a backward glance. Sherlock let out a breath of relief as it appeared they were now in the clear to leave without any additional interruptions.

A quick stop with the cloakroom attendant to pick up their respective garments and then it was out the door into the night. Finally. Sherlock took a deep breath to clear any residual effects of the club from his body and mind. The blast of cool air revived Victoria enough for her to attempt to push Sherlock up against the wall of an alleyway that they passed. As it was necessary to remain in his Arthur character for a bit longer, he allowed her to press her body up against his and to run her tongue along the skin under his ear. By the time she nipped his earlobe with her teeth, Sherlock had decided that was enough of that and pushed her away long enough to start them down the pavement again.

As Victoria was really in no state to require constant attention, he was free for the most part to give some thought to what he needed to accomplish once he had access to her flat. Sherlock would just give her a tug here or there to keep her moving or a not-so-gentle pat on her bottom every once in a while, which was something he had noticed worked exceptionally well in assisting her along.

With his thought processes freed up, he was able to focus his mind on the implementation of the third part of his plan. There were several things that demanded to be resolved before he felt that the case would be complete. He had a few theories which required verification and some questions that he felt still needed answering. What he most wanted was to get his hands on her mobile. Not the blinged-out, high tech version which he had noted was currently taking up most of the space inside her tiny handbag. The other mobile. The one he was quite sure he would find somewhere in her flat.

In less than five minutes, which can seem like an eternity to someone when spent with an extremely intoxicated person who was incessantly seeking to molest them, Sherlock and Victoria reached the entrance to her building. There was a uniformed doorman waiting, who not only recognized Victoria as a tenant, but was not in the least surprised to see her obviously inebriated, in the arms of a man he did not recognize in the slightest. Giving Sherlock a quick nod, along with a sly wink, he opened the door for them to enter the building. Sherlock took a quick glance around the foyer, noting the rather posh surroundings, with the element of expense quite obvious in the furnishings and the artwork. Up market all the way. Just as they reached the lift, which Sherlock was delighted to see was in working order as six flights of stairs would make him wish to abandon his burden by at the very least the third floor, the doorman called out to him, "That'll be 6D you'd be lookin' for, mate."

After pressing the up button, Sherlock turned to give the doorman a jaunty two finger salute along with a nod of thanks, then turned back to face the lift doors, pulling Victoria around so her front was leaning against his chest and wrapping his arms tighter around her waist to keep her from falling. She sighed woozily but with pleasure and reached up to wrap her arms around Sherlock's neck. The doors opened and Sherlock lifted her slightly off her feet and swept them both into the lift.

Before the lift doors closed, he heard the amused voice of the doorman speaking with another man, who was out of sight around a corner. "Yep, 'nother one off looks like. Right lucky toff. She's real plastered this time, I tell ya, but cracking still. Got me awonderin' if it's a no-knickers night, ya know?" The closing of the doors cut off the other man's reply.

From the time that they had entered the building, Sherlock had been very aware of the cameras that monitored their actions. No doubt the man he had not seen was the security guard. It would appear that the staff enjoyed following with interest the lives of the people living here. Perhaps Victoria in particular. Sherlock had no doubt that the guard, and possibly the doorman as well, were watching them on the CCTV right then. With that in mind, he intended to keep to the Arthur character until they were safely inside Victoria's flat.

Never had an lift ride up six floors lasted so long! Once inside the lift, Sherlock had set Victoria back down on her feet. Now she was leaning all her weight against him, effectively pinning him against the side of the lift, and was licking his neck of all things. Ugh. Sherlock was able to keep his disgust under wraps and even make it appear that he was _enjoying _it. Just to be on the safe side, and he had the grace to admit, to tweak the men watching a bit, he slowly ran his hand down the length of Victoria's side, pulling her very short dress up slightly, to display for the camera and the men watching, a quick peek at her neon pink micro bikini pants as his slid his hand under the dress and cupped her bum. He smiled wickedly with a wink in the direction of one of the cameras. There. That should give the boys something to think about for a while. Working nights could get so very boring, Sherlock thought. It was only right and fair to help out when you could.

Finally, they reached the sixth floor and he decided enough with the struggle, and after retrieving the keys from her handbag, he scooped Victoria up in his arms. Much easier. With the added bonus that she appeared to be getting sleepy from the motion of his carrying her. At the least, she just snuggled up against his chest and had stopped trying to snog him.

By the time they arrived at the door to her flat she was snoring slightly. Sherlock smiled fondly down at her in anticipation of dumping her on the bed and getting on with his search. He managed to unlock the door and open it without dropping her. Once he had the door closed behind him, he quickly glanced around the flat to make sure that they were alone and that there weren't any additional cameras hidden anywhere. No one else. No additional surveillance in evidence. Satisfied on that point, Sherlock then began to look for the bedroom.

Once he found it, he rather wished he hadn't. It appeared to be decorated in early bordello, with the odd dungeon element tossed into to the mix. Lots of black and red. And leather. Hmm. Indeed. Sherlock pulled back the duvet cover and slid Victoria down into the bed, pulling the duvet up to cover her. To his immense relief, she remained sleeping. He scanned the room quickly, but determined that what he was looking for was not likely to be in this room. Victoria reserved this room for her personal pleasure. What he was searching for was something that gave her pleasure of a different kind.

Checking that she was still asleep, he closed the bedroom door behind him and returned to the lounge. He had rather expected Victoria to be a sloppy housekeeper, but he was surprised to note that she was in fact very neat and organised. This of course would make his search easier. And indeed it did. The room was a showplace of minimal-ness. Scandinavian style furniture, simple clean lines, the walls painted a very pale peach. Very little clutter if one overlooked the multitude of photographs. Little covered baskets and decorated boxes scattered around the room to store things. She seemed to be one of those everything has a place and everything in its place type of person. Delightful prospects for someone who needs to search quickly and thoroughly.

Moving directly to the desk, he began a systemic search of the drawers. In the top drawer on the right side, he found exactly what he had intended to find. The other mobile. The cheap little disposable mobile. Much like the one she must have sent Donny Thomas with which to communicate with him and send him the additional instructions. Sherlock smiled smugly as he thought of Lestrade sitting back in the chair all pleased with himself, "it's not like she's sending those texts to herself." Ha! Really, Lestrade? Of course not! That would be ILLOGICAL! Sherlock tossed the mobile up in the air and caught it behind his back. One point cleared off the pile of questions. Moving on.

Sherlock opened the phone and began going through the text messages just to verify he was right. Which naturally he was. They were all there. The ones at the beginning between her and Donny, the ones she sent herself about her friend, and the one she showed Lestrade. Clever, Victoria. Very clever. And the last one, which she must have sent to Donny while he was in conversation with Sherlock at the empty flat. Sherlock closed the mobile and tapped it thoughtfully against his lips. My, my, someone was a bit threatening. No wonder Donny high tailed it for his mother's house.

So. Another question presented. Why Donny? How would someone like Victoria come into contact with someone like Donny Thomas? Donny claimed he didn't know who the boss was, and Sherlock believed him. It would, however, be necessary for the boss to know who Donny was. Hmm. He tucked that thought away in his mind for now and resumed searching. But what was he looking for? He wasn't exactly sure, but he knew he would recognize it when he found it.

By the time he was through with the desk, he had a small pile of items set aside. A floor plan of the Victoria train station. A flier explaining the different services offered in the Victoria Coach station, including surprise surprise, services for left luggage, with the only thing needed to claim the left luggage was the claim ticket and the amount of money needed to redeem it. Indeed. It was when Donny first told him of these locations, the _Victoria_ train station and _Victoria_ Coach station that Sherlock had been positive that he was on the right track. Nothing like leaving a huge flashing arrow pointing to the boss, _Victoria_ herself.

One of Sherlock's more passive methods of mind work concerned the connecting of random bits information with other random bits of information to form idle thoughts, which he then let roam around in the back of his mind searching for other idle thoughts to play with. Once these idle thoughts had a chance to play, they produced ideas and in turn these ideas clicked with other ideas that had been just lying around in Sherlock's brain waiting to hook up with each other. And so preceded the birth of theory.

Sherlock had deduced soon after he first saw Victoria, based on some clear signs he could not help but notice, that she was a recreational drug user. That she had in fact partaken of some ecstasy in crystalized form shortly before his arrival at the club. This bit of information then began the journey within Sherlock's mind until it led to the fact that Donny Thomas was a dealer in drugs. Ah. Another piece of the puzzle came together. Donny did in fact know the boss, he just wasn't aware of it.

Also in the desk, Sherlock had found some thought-provoking correspondence originating from a practice belonging to a doctor of psychiatry. Apparently, Victoria had developed a pattern of not showing up for her therapy session appointments. Much against the good doctor's advice. Hmm. Most intriguing. Sherlock did a quick scan of the letters. The dates ranged over the last year and a half. The majority of them were signed by the doctor's assistant. The earlier letters mostly were in the form of reminders of missed appointments. The latter ones took the form of pleas to call for an appointment. There was one rather long one from the doctor himself, detailing the vital need for Victoria to resume her therapy. The contents of this letter clearly indicated that Victoria had been seeing this doctor for treatment of a serious personality disorder. There was also some mention of medication for anxiety and depression, which the doctor highly recommended that Victoria continue to take even if she did not return for therapy. The letter was nicely decorated by black marker drawings of the devil and his pitchfork. One could only assume it to be the work of Victoria. Sherlock had to admit she did have a certain flare.

Under the pile of letters, Sherlock found the bottles of medication that Victoria's doctor had so strongly recommended she continue to take. Sherlock shook the pills out of one of the bottles to count them. Oh, yes. There were 22 pills left in a bottle that originally held 30 with the proscribed dosage being one daily. The date on the bottle was seven months ago. A quick inventory of the other two bottles and it was obvious that Victoria had not been taking any of her medication for over six and a half months.

He set the bottles aside and stood to walk around the room getting a feel for who Victoria was. Why would she do this to Lilly? Evidently there were some feelings of anger and jealousy toward Lilly. But there had to be more. Looking at the photos that Victoria had hung on the walls and had set in frames on nearly every surface available, it was quite noticeable that they were all of Victoria. Victoria alone. Victoria with others. Some with a couple who recognized Lord Henry and Lady Constance. Others with her mother and the man who must have been her father. There were many of Victoria and her father. Curiously those far outnumbered any other combination. Sherlock studied a few of them and even to him they seemed a bit off. Not quite right. Too intimate. Victoria seemed too young in many of them. Perhaps, he thought, the man wasn't her father after all. After taking another look at them, Sherlock was quite sure that he was her father. Very strange. He continued to peruse the rest of the photos, looking for Lilly in any of them. All in all, Sherlock was only able to locate two photos that had Lilly in them. In both, Lilly was over shadowed by Victoria and one appeared to have been taken when Lilly wasn't aware of it.

Sherlock stopped studying the photographs when he was distracted by the corner of a newspaper that was sticking slightly out of one of the little covered bins. He lifted the cover and pulled out the paper. It was folded to show just a photo with a caption. "Lord Henry Fairfax attended the ball with his daughter, Lillian." Common enough type of photo one might come across on the society pages. Except of course for the fact that Lilly's face had been completely blacked out with a marker, and the name "Lillian" had been scrawled over with "Victoria" all in upper case letters.

Sherlock gave that some thought. And then he realized that he had been wrong all along. And Lilly had been right. She was not the queen. She was a pawn. In spite of being the focal point of the abduction, she was not the goal. She was merely the pawn to be sacrificed. At the altar of Victoria. In Victoria's mind, Lilly was not a threat. She was an irritant. Invisible most of the time. Definitely not Victoria's equal or better. Someone to use to get what one needed. Ah, thought Sherlock. Victoria was a very dangerous woman indeed.

Well. Time to wrap up this and be done with it. Sherlock was sure that he had all the information he was likely to get from the flat. He replaced everything where he had found it, exactly as he had found it, with the exception of the disposable mobile which he tucked away in his trousers pocket, and was debating whether to recheck that Victoria was asleep or not. He thought not, as if she was awake he did not wish to get started with all that nonsense again. Best to leave well enough alone.

On his way to the door, he noticed that the answering machine on the land line was showing messages. Oh why not? He stepped over to it, turned the volume down and pressed play. There were four messages recorded the day Lilly went missing, all from the same woman, whose voice began sternly and became increasingly agitated as the messages progressed until the final one in which the voice alternated between pleading and persuading.

"_Victoria! Why are you not answering your mobile? I know you screen your calls. Pick up! Fine then. Call me. As soon as you get this. I mean it. Lilly is missing." – 2:14 pm_

"_Tell me you are not involved in this, Victoria. The police have become seriously involved. They are coming to the estate to talk to us and you must be here. Come right now." – 2:59 pm_

"_Victoria, darling, please. Tell Mummy. I can help you. You have to come out to the estate. Immediately. The police are asking for you. I managed to convince Henry not to bring more people into the investigation than necessary but if this goes on much longer, we will be forced to go to the press for assistance in finding her. We will talk when you get here." – 3:25 pm_

"_Victoria! I know that you lied to me about Lilly. You do know where she is. I know you do. Just tell me where she is and I will take care of it. You know Mummy always takes care of it. You can trust me, Victoria. Your little joke has gone on far too long, darling. It's not funny anymore. What have you done with her? Where is she? Victoria, please. Henry is very upset. Do you really wish him to be upset with you? His resolve not to seek assistance from the public is weakening. You know he is not as strong as we are. I can only do so much to protect you. Call me." – 11:58 pm_

As the final message ended, Sherlock headed straight for the door. He knew that if he stayed in the flat one second more, he would no doubt do some serious damage to Victoria. Which would not help anything. But would be vastly satisfying. And upset Lilly no doubt. Still, he resolved at that moment, that he would do everything in his power to prevent Lilly from returning to her home. Her _family_, he thought with disgust. She could no longer live with these people. She had to be made aware, even at the expense of her sentiments for them, that they were responsible for the harm that had come to her. No. She would stay with him at Baker Street. Along with John of course. And Mrs. Hudson. Yes. They would be her family from now on. Popping the collar on his coat, dismissing Victoria Burke from his mind, he made his way out of the building and into the night.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this one, it was a joy to write. Sherlock being Sherlock. It doesn't get better than that! Well. I had intended to finish the story at chapter 20, but obviously that didn't happen. Now it's looking like it might make it to chapter 25. I know there is at least one more coming. The Confrontation! How that one progresses will determine if there will be additional. Who am I kidding? We have to have a story wrap up, right?

So now we know the who, the what, the why and the how. What possible mysteries could remain, you ask? A very good question. And I will tell you. There is at least one more question to be resolved and it's something that will no doubt surprise all of you. At least I hope so.

Onward! Thanks to all the followers of this story, and your numbers are still growing. Feeling the love, people. Extra special thanks to you lovely reviewers for saving me from the vacuum. Words can not express my fondness for you: Scarlett, Kathryn Buzolic, The Yoshinator, Bluebearsweetie, and CheekyChemist! - RS


	24. A Meander Through the Domestic

**Chapter 23 - A Meander through the Domestic **

_In which Sherlock thinks he's settled a lodging issue, John demonstrates how sweet he can be and Lilly makes some decisions._

When Sherlock returned to Baker Street the night was at its darkest right before the dawn. There was a light burning in the kitchen, but no one was there. Sherlock determined, judging by the air of quiet in the flat, that neither John nor Lilly was awake. As he walked down the hallway toward his bedroom, he allowed himself to admit that he was feeling extremely tired. Exhausted even. The strain of the night, having kept himself so rigidly within the Arthur Davids façade for what seemed like ages, was finally catching up with him. True, it was not unheard of for him to go for days without sleep when he was in the middle of a case, but now this _case_, for all intents and purposes was solved. Granted there were still personal resolutions pending and confrontations to implement, but solved none the less from Sherlock's point of view. It even occurred to him that he supposed he could eat if there was something available, which going by the cleared kitchen he had just passed through there wasn't. Oh well. Food wasn't essential at this moment. No. At this moment, the only thing necessary was sleep. But first he knew that he must get out of these clothes, which smelled alternately of Purple Hair's heavy musk, Victoria's horrendous perfume, and the drink which had spilled from her glass onto his suit jacket and shirt. He wrinkled his nose with disgust. Sometimes having an extremely well developed sense of smell was not an asset.

Just before he opened the bedroom door however, he recalled that Lilly was likely to be asleep in his bed. Well, he thought to himself, he would just quietly slip in and remove something to sleep in, and then change in the loo. He'd slept on the sofa many times, what was one more? The thought occurred to him that with Lilly now to move in here at Baker Street, they would probably have to do something about the sleeping arrangements. He really did not wish to sleep on the sofa ad infinitum. They would definitely have to give some thought as to where to lodge her. Perhaps they could clear out that room next to John's? At present, it was being used for the storage of Mrs. Hudson's excess furniture, along with the occasional experiment which required too much space for John to allow him to conduct it in the flat, but surely they could move things around a bit. The room was large and it did have a window. What more should be required? He would inform John, in the morning, of the need to move the furniture up to the loft, and then they could survey the room to see what else would be needed to make it livable. Just so. Sherlock smiled to himself, proud of having solved the little domestic problem so quickly and logically.

Slipping quietly into the room, he could see Lilly asleep in the bed. The faint light coming through the window shone on her face in its repose. She looked so peaceful and untroubled. And not a little appealing to Sherlock in his exhausted state. After the night he had endured, a little peaceful and untroubled sleep would suit him to the ground. Perhaps some of her peace could wear off on him, Sherlock thought, as he continued across the room to reach his chest of drawers to take out some pyjama bottoms. Standing upright again just made all the exhaustion overtake him and he found he didn't want to go any further this night. He was done in. This was _his_ bedroom after all, and even if Lilly was already asleep in the bed, it was a large bed. He eyed the bed to gauge the amount of space remaining available after taking into account the space Lilly was already occupying. Without a doubt big enough for two. He rather thought she could hardly hold it against him for wanting to sleep in his own bed. He was willing after all to wear pyjamas in deference to her sensibilities. Sleeping in the nude was his preferred choice. Taking a quick check over his shoulder to ensure that she was in fact still sleeping, Sherlock slipped off his shoes, then quickly took off his suit coat and tossed it over to the chair, and a moment later his trousers followed. After he tossed the soiled dress shirt in the laundry basket, along with his socks, he pulled on the pyjama bottoms and headed over to the bed.

As gently as possible, he pulled back the duvet and sheet and slipped under them to lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling grimacing. Not his normally chosen sleeping position. No. This would not do. How had he never realized before the difficulties involved in maneuvering in a bed without disturbing the other occupant? Well quite frankly, he had to admit that the issue had never before presented. There was nothing for it, he had to move to a more comfortable position or give up on sleep altogether which would be somewhat beside the point.

Keeping one hand on the duvet and the sheet, he scooted over toward Lilly a bit, enough to be able to turn onto his side. Now he was facing Lilly who was also sleeping on her side, but facing away from him. Sherlock remained still for a few seconds to get a feel for if this position was going to work for him. It would be fine, he realized, if it wasn't for the sensation that he was about to fall arse backward out of the bed. Good lord, why did this have to be so complicated? Enough of this! He had to move further into the bed, and if the movement disturbed Lilly, so be it. There was no way after he had gone to this much trouble already that he was giving up the bed and going to the sofa. He slid closer to Lilly and was just at an optimal distance, he felt, from the edge of the bed, when his weight made the mattress dip and Lilly slid backward into the slight gap that Sherlock had been trying to maintain between them. Sherlock's breath caught for a second, then he noted with relief that Lilly was still asleep.

He was just about to push her sleeping form away when he became aware of what a pleasant position this was, the way she was nestled up against him, her back to his front. And if he was being truthful, he had to admit that she fit there well and it felt rather agreeable having her so close to him. But then in the entire of their acquaintance it had never seemed to bother him when she ended up in his personal space. Sherlock smiled a bit at that thought. Only Lilly could get away with making him enjoy sharing his space. Sentiment indeed. He nuzzled his nose into her hair, it was right there in front of him after all, drawing in her warm clean scent, so different from all the nasty smells he had been subjected to all night. He noted that it was partly the scent of his own shampoo, familiar but slightly different, and under that some elusive something that was uniquely Lilly. Umm. Very pleasant. He decided to give it a few minutes to see if this position would disturb his ability to fall asleep. Apparently it did not, as less than a minute later he was fast asleep, one arm draped over Lilly's side, his head next to hers on the pillow.

_7%7%7%7%7%7%7%7%_

When John got up the next morning, everything was as it had been when he went to bed. It didn't appear that Sherlock had come home last night. He had thought to find him either sleeping on the sofa or pacing the lounge. But there was no sign of him. He sent off a quick text to him to see where he was and when he would be coming back. Not that he expected to get an answer, but he had to do it anyway. Who knew, there was always a first time for Sherlock to respond to a text. This might be the one.

Getting back to sleep had been difficult in light of all the things that he had talked about with Lilly. John wondered how she had slept, if she had even been able to. Poor kid. He was worried about her. This whole thing with her family. Talk about tough. Well, he knew that he for one would be there for Lilly with whatever she needed. He sighed out a deep breath thinking on the confrontation that sweet girl had ahead of her. He could understand her not wanting to press charges against Victoria, but she had to be made to see that something had to be done about the situation. Too bad it didn't seem like her father and step mother would be supportive in getting Victoria the help she required.

Anyroad, he felt the need to have a coffee this morning, and chances were that Lilly might like one too. If not, he would make her some tea. Before they parted last night, well actually this morning, Lilly had asked him to wake her when he got up. But it would only do her good to get some extra sleep if she could and he decided right then to treat her with breakfast in bed. Yep, that would be something he could do to stop feeling so damn helpless. Smiling at the thought of surprising Lilly with breakfast, he started the coffee going, put the kettle on for tea, and began looking for breakfast makings. He found some eggs and bacon that looked promising, but he frowned when he realized that he never had found the bread. They must be out of it. But there was milk at least.

Humming to himself, he found a tray and started trying to put together a matching place setting, which proved more difficult than he would have thought. He just wanted it to look nice. If he found a plate that he liked the look of, there wasn't a cup and saucer that matched. If he liked the design on a cup, there weren't any plates that matched or if they did, they had chips in them. At least the silverware matched. He finally gave up and headed down to Mrs. Hudson's where he found a lovely little bone china tea cup with saucer and a matching luncheon-sized plate with tiny white lilies in the pattern. Perfect. Pleased with his find, he decided to nick one or two of the cut flowers that Mrs. Hudson had in a vase on her kitchen table. Some were looking a bit worse for wear, but there were a couple of stems with really pretty little pale pink flowers. He had no idea what kind of flower they were, he just liked the look of them and they weren't wilted which was a plus, so he rooted around for a small bud vase to put them in. Finding one, along with a fairly fresh loaf of bread, he took his spoils back up to their flat. He knew Mrs. Hudson would understand.

Fifteen minutes later, John had a lovely tray all made up for Lilly. Fluffy eggs, crisp bacon, toast cut into little triangles and spread with marmalade all arranged appealingly on the plate, along with tea in the cup and flowers in the vase. He managed to find a plain white napkin, which he folded in to a triangle and tucked under the silverware. He stood back and surveyed the tray, enormously pleased with himself. It looked very nice, very nice indeed. Picking up the tray he headed down the hallway to the bedroom.

John had to balance the tray on his arm to open the door, but once he had the door open, he took it in both hands again. This was a good thing, as once he got a clear view of the bed, he was so flabbergasted he almost dropped it. There was Lilly, as expected, still asleep in those cute little kitty pyjamas. There was Sherlock, whom John was not expecting, also asleep with his arms wrapped around Lilly and her head resting on his bare chest. Oh god, John groaned to himself. Knowing Sherlock's preference for sleeping naked, John hoped he had something on under that sheet. He shook his head to clear it. Not his business actually. Whatever was going on between the two of them. Not his business at all. He straightened his spine and nodded his head firmly with resolve. Right then.

He was just starting to turn around to head back to the kitchen, where he could mind his own damn business, when he stubbed his bare toe hard on the door jam. Which caused him to struggle not to drop the tray. Which in turn caused him to swear. Loudly. Which of course woke one of the occupants of the bed.

Lilly's eyes opened at the sound of John's cursing, and at first she wasn't sure where she was. Seeing John in the doorway helped her to place herself, but then she had to wonder why he was fighting with the door while hopping on one foot. Once things started clearing up in her mind, she began wondering why the pillow was so hard and why she couldn't move to sit up. Then she realized that the pillow was _breathing _and not a _pillow_ at all. Why was her head resting on Sherlock's chest? As she tried to sit up, the reason she couldn't move also became clear when Sherlock's arms, which were wrapped around her, tightened their hold on her in response to her movement. Well, she thought, when did this happen? How did this happen? She tilted her head away from his chest and looked up at his face with confusion. He appeared to be sound asleep. Was she dreaming? The continued cursing and struggling sounds coming from the doorway made that seem unlikely. It was apparent that John was in need of some assistance, so Lilly set about squirming herself free from Sherlock's hold.

It wasn't easy, but she finally managed to free herself. For someone sound asleep he had a fairly determined grip. Once she was sitting up she looked down at him with a puzzled expression on her face. She didn't remember Sherlock coming to bed. Goodness. She must have been more tired than she had thought. Lilly took a second to appreciate the sight of his long dark eyelashes against his pale cheek, before she leaned down and gave him a quick kiss on one of those lovely cheekbones. Sherlock just moaned with irritation in response to that and turned over face down into the mattress, dragging a pillow up over his head. Chuckling, Lilly climbed over Sherlock's sleeping form and managed to rescue the tray from John before he dropped it.

"Are you okay?" Lilly asked him, meeting his eyes with concern. When he nodded the affirmative in spite of limping down the hallway toward the kitchen, Lilly looked down at the tray and figured out what John had been trying to do for her. She followed him to the kitchen and smiling at him, she leaned down and kissed his cheek after he sat down at the table. "Oh, it's just lovely, John! So thoughtful of you to make me breakfast! Thank you. You are just the sweetest man."

"Oh, it was nothing. Just thought you might be hungry." He pretended to wave away her praise, still pleased in spite of his nice surprise falling into tatters. At least he hadn't dropped the damn thing. He smiled sheepishly then pressed his lips together when he realized he had just been swearing up a storm right in front of Lilly. He shook his head annoyed at himself for his most ungentlemanly like behavior. "Sorry for the commotion, Lilly. Stubbed my toe. Of all things. Silly really."

Lilly set the tray down on the table and motioned for John to lift his leg up so she could have a look at his toe. He declined, she insisted. Before too long, Lilly was sitting on the floor with John's foot in her hands making sure he hadn't broken anything. Once she was satisfied that he would live, she joined him at the table. John was by now feeling ridiculous about the whole thing and Lilly had begun to see the silliness of the situation. Once they stopped giggling, John got up to put together a plate of food for himself and they had a very amiable breakfast after all.

Lilly had insisted on helping John with the washing up, and once finished with that, she wandered back toward the bedroom to decide on what to wear for the day, along with packing up the remaining items into the carrier bags to take with her to wherever she was going next. The case was solved, they just had to put the plans in place regarding what to do about Victoria. Then all that would remain would be for her to figure out her next move in life. She had been giving this some thought and had discussed with Ron last night an option that she thought would work well for everyone. He was going to look into it and let her know later this morning. As long as he was out on that errand for her, she had also requested that he speak with Bess, the manager of her book store, to have a cheque drawn on her account for payment to Mr. Sherlock Holmes, for services rendered and to reimburse for expenses he had acquired in the course of the case. Such as the different clothing that Lilly's mind was deliberating on just then.

What did one wear to confront one's family? To stand up for oneself? To declare that what had been, would be no more? This was something she never thought she would have to contemplate, she reflected sadly. Well, there was no going back. Changes were coming. Lilly drew in a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and let the breath out slowly. Things had to change and she was going to be the one to make those changes. Beginning right now. The _Lilly_ she had been three days ago would naturally go with the suit jacket and skirt. Demure, refined, buttoned up. Hair pulled back neatly. Yes, that was what the proper Lady Lillian Fairfax of three days ago would have chosen for her upcoming appearance. However, she wasn't that woman any longer. Instead of becoming nervous at that thought, Lilly felt calm. Wonderful, actually. And, she realized with a sigh of contentment, surprisingly free.

Opening the bedroom door, she noted that Sherlock was still asleep. He had pulled that amazing head of his out from under the pillow and was lying on his side facing the door. She noted that the pillow she had been using before he had become her head rest was now clutched in his sleep grip. He was hugging that poor pillow just as tightly as he had been hugging her. Which now that she thought on it, why had he been hugging her in his sleep? What was he doing the bed in the first place? She had to admit that whereas she didn't mind the thought of sharing the bed with Sherlock, she had been surprised that he had not minded sharing it with her. Oh, he looked adorable lying there, very much like a sweet, but naughty little boy. It took a bit of will power not to climb back in with him to forget the world for a few more hours, but she knew hiding in bed wouldn't solve anything. She leaned over and pushed a curl back from his forehead so she could press a light kiss there. Sherlock sighed in his sleep and Lilly could have sworn she detected a sleepy smile come to his lips.

Quietly, so as not to wake him, she set the jeans and the cowl neck jumper to the side, then started folding the rest and putting them in the purple shop bags. Once she had everything packed away, she picked up the two bags, along with the small pile of clothes to change into and with one last longing look at Sherlock, headed to the bathroom to bathe and prepare for the day to come. If things worked out as she hoped they would, there would be time enough for cuddling with Sherlock in the not too distant future.

* * *

A/N: I know, I know...don't ask. This chapter was not what I intended write at all, Sherlock, John and Lilly ran away with it, and I had no choice! Honest. Really. I fought hard all the way! *wink, wink* I hope you enjoy it anyway. I'm getting rather attached to Lilly, can you tell? The next chapter is going to be all about the promised confrontations, and hopefully, a surprise or two.

Once again and forever: Thank you to all the loyal story followers, the people who have been so kind as to add it to their favorites, and the wonderful lovely reviewers of this story. Without you and your support, Lilly and I would not be here. Hugs to all. - RS

Oh, sorry about taking so long to post, I've been actually giving a good deal of thought to what the next case (mystery) for Sherlock, John and Lilly could be...any suggestions would be taken into consideration. Send me a PM or added it to a review or something if you have a suggestion. xx


	25. Illogical Behaviours

**Chapter 24 – Coordinated Confrontations, part 1**

_In which Sherlock confronts his emotions and Lilly makes a stand. _

It was later that morning, 11:43 to be precise, when the shouting began within 221B Baker Street. At first what was being shouted was indistinct and was accompanied by muffled thumping sounds. Then John, who was in the kitchen, made out that it was coming from Sherlock's bedroom and it sounded rather like Sherlock shouting "Lilly!" while throwing things at the wall. Then the door to the bedroom flew open and Sherlock, bare chested, wearing just pyjama bottoms came hurtling down the hall and slid to a stop in front of John, who had stopped mucking about with the tea things and was now resting his back against the worktop, patiently waiting for Sherlock to explain the reason for his shouting.

"_Whereisshe?JohnwhereisLilly?"_ Sherlock wasn't shouting anymore, but he was talking rather fast, faster than normal even, and if John didn't know his friend better, he would think he was frantic. But Sherlock didn't do frantic. Not usually anyway. Of course, in the last day or so, he had been acting a tad strange when it came to Lilly. _"MissingLillyThings!GoneJohnGone!"_

John spared a moment to acknowledge the relief he felt that the man was actually wearing something other than the usual sheet, which no doubt would only make all this easier for everyone. Dealing with a crazy Sherlock really wasn't on his list of must do's for today. Having to deal with a crazy _naked_ Sherlock? No damn way. Sherlock's hair was sticking up at weird angles and he had a pink crease on his cheek from sleeping. His eyes were wide with something which might have been shock or panic, but John wasn't convinced that his flatmate was even fully awake yet. He seemed a mite befuddled. At least John thought that might be as good an explanation as any for the fact that Sherlock had opened the refrigerator a second ago and was now bent over to look under the table. Apparently looking for Lilly, John mused. As if she was likely to be in either of those places.

When Sherlock's head resurfaced, John put his hands out, palms down, in a soothing gesture. Using his unruffled doctor voice, and successfully fighting the urge to dissolve into a giggle fit, he said, "Sherlock, calm down, just calm yourself down. What is the matter with you, eh?"

"There's nothing the matter with me! Aren't you listening?" Sherlock growled back at John, turning away to open a cupboard in his continuing lunatic quest for Lilly. His voice started out almost normally, if a bit slurred but rose to a fevered shout, as he closed the cupboard and turned to John again, his arms waving around in wild gestures, "She's gone, John. Her things. They were there. In the bedroom. Now they are not! Where did she go? We have to get her back, John!"

John looked at Sherlock like he had gone off his nut as he took him by the shoulders, turned him around to face the other way and calmly pointed through the sliding door to the lounge, where Lilly had been sitting in John's chair talking with Ron Somers who had been sitting in Sherlock's. Neither of them was sitting now. Once they heard Sherlock shouting, they had both stood and looked to John in the kitchen, thereby getting a front row view of Sherlock's grand entrance to the kitchen just moments ago.

"Sherlock. I am right here." Lilly said chuckling at bit, with a fond smile on her face, and not even bothering to hide her amusement at Sherlock's behaviour. She lifted her hand and gave him a little two finger wave. "No need to shout."

One might get the impression the man fancied her or something, she thought, the way he was going on. She was fairly sure she had heard Ron grumble something that sounded like _'nutter…no shirt…not decent…'_ under his breath, so she sent a stern glance over at him before heading toward the kitchen. She hadn't taken more than three steps when suddenly Sherlock was looming over her, firmly gripping her shoulders, staring down into her eyes with an intensity that startled her with its contrast to the rest of his face which was a blank mask, and began turning the both of them in circles until she started to get giddy.

"Sherlock, stop it!" She said, pushing up against his hands, unsuccessfully at first, then he loosened his hold on her and she started to tip over before he grabbed her again, this time around the waist and lifted her up so she was at eye level with him. Naturally, she wrapped her legs around his waist so he wouldn't be forced to hold her entire weight in his hands.

This was becoming a habit, she thought as she rested her palms on his bare shoulders. She tilted her head down and studied those shoulders, as she considered the fact that a shirtless Sherlock was a new twist to this habit. A very nice one too. She looked up and met his blue-green eyes, which were still staring at her like she was a hallucination. A bit disconcerting that. So to distract him she did the first thing that came to her mind. She leaned in and kissed him. It took a few seconds for him to get distracted, but then a slight shudder passed through him, and he started kissing her back, much to John's bemusement and Ron's ire.

Ron Somers felt he had had just about enough of this barking mad detective man. Out of all the nice normal blokes in the world, why oh why did Lilly have to go and get all in love with this nutcase? Was it possible she had hit her head or something? Maybe she'd wake up and come to her senses? One could only dream, he thought, clearing his throat loudly. With the satisfying result that Lilly pulled back from Sherlock, and that cheeky git finally put her back down on her feet before he was forced to give him a bunch of fives right in his cakehole.

Lilly stood there blushing and not meeting anyone's eyes. John couldn't help but think that Lilly was adorable and it was very apparent to him that Sherlock was arse over tit in love with Lilly. Sherlock was frowning at Ron like he just noticed there were other people in the room besides Lilly. As if Ron had just somehow sprung up from the carpet to annoy him. Ron for his part looked as if he wanted to punch Sherlock in the face. Sherlock appeared to want to return the favour.

Into the ensuing silence that came with this standoff, John straightened his shoulders and said with the air of a man taking charge of a situation, which of course he was, "Right then. Who's for a bite of dinner? I've made up some sarnies, ham and cheese, and there's crisps and for afters there are biscuits. Chocolate drop and lemon, I think…not completely sure about those, and I was just about to put the kettle on."

Lilly was the first to recover. She managed to put herself between Sherlock and Ron, then turned to John and said brightly, "That would be lovely, John. Did you need some help? Ron, John needs some help. Go help him."

She grabbed Ron by his arm and pulled him toward the kitchen, as Sherlock stepped up onto John's chair to get out of their way, then walked over the table and jumped over onto his own chair, sitting down on the back of it with his feet on the seat, glaring at Ron the entire time. If Sherlock wasn't fully awake before, he was now, if a bit muddled. Once Ron was safely in the kitchen, Sherlock lifted his feet and slid his backside down onto the chair seat, closing his eyes and trying to get his bearings. What had gone on before Ron's interruption was a bit fuzzy in his mind. He wasn't exactly clear on how he had come to have Lilly in his arms, kissing her. The kissing part was very clear. All that came before was not. This was the first time that he had been distracted to the point of forgetfulness by something involving Lilly. And it was mildly distressing needless to say.

The first feeling he had had upon waking was surprise that Lilly wasn't there. In the bed with him. The second feeling, which followed very quickly on the heels of the first one, was of disappointment. This caused him to look around the room, hence noticing that Lilly's belongings, her clothes and things, were no longer in the bedroom. This observation provoked the third and fourth feelings of worry and of distress. Which apparently took over his normally logical mind, causing him to behave in the manner of a Bedlam resident? In a word. Lunatic. To put it mildly.

Illogical behaviour to the extreme. It was quite clear that this illogical behaviour had without doubt involved him engaging in actions or expressing sentiments he would rather have not done. Moreover, he was tremendously disgusted with himself for that rather blatant public display of affection. It was troublesome enough that he continued to allow himself the indulgence of this on-going _whatever it was_ with Lilly, he certainly did not wish to _demonstrate_ his _feelings _in front of anyone, including John and most especially Ron Somers. Sherlock felt that Ron was the next to last person he wanted observing his _interactions_ with Lilly. The last person in this scenario would be Mycroft naturally. Most definitely. That was a given. But at this moment, Mycroft was not his problem. Ron Somers was.

Sherlock had observed enough of the man Somers to know that he did not approve of Lilly's affection for him, nor did Ron like him personally. Not something that would normally bother Sherlock. He was used to that. Most people did not like him. Some hated him. But what concern was that to Sherlock? None. The only people who mattered were John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly and now Lilly. Their opinions of him were all that mattered. Were all Sherlock cared about.

So why did it bother him so much that Ron Somers didn't like or approve of him? He knew on some level it had to do with Lilly and that the man was important to her, and that he knew he didn't want to disappoint Lilly with regard to anything. It was more than obvious that Ron Somers didn't think he was good enough for Lilly. A fact which Sherlock himself would agree wholeheartedly with. If he actually possessed a heart with which to be whole with. Of course Sherlock was aware that he wasn't _good enough_ for Lilly. That was quite evident. She deserved someone who would be there for her and love her as she should be loved. Those very things that Sherlock was afraid he would be incapable of providing for her. Yes. Sherlock Holmes. Afraid.

There were few things that Sherlock was afraid of. John finally getting fed up with him and leaving. Loosing John's respect. Molly seeing things in him she was not meant to see. Lestrade not needing him anymore. Any harm coming to Mrs. Hudson through his actions. Mycroft gaining any more control over his life than he had already. Now he had more to fear. Lilly not being a part of his life. Of disappointing her. Of not being what she needed him to be. He had always believed that to be alone was good. Being alone protected him. Being alone kept him safe. But safe from what? Now he could admit that being alone was nothing more than being alone. It was just lonely. John had made him see that he didn't have to be alone. Being with Lilly had allowed him see that it was possible to feel intense emotions, to act on them even, and still be able to think logically.

He was interrupted in his musings by the sound of Lilly speaking to him. He opened his eyes and saw she had returned from escorting Ron to the kitchen and was now holding something out to him. He took it from her outstretched hand and glanced at it. A cheque. Made out to him. Whatever for? Looking down at the floor he noted the purple carrier bags set by John's chair and remembered why he had been upset. Lilly's things were not missing. She had packed them. Now she was giving him payment. For services rendered no doubt. Well, he didn't want payment. He wanted Lilly.

He tilted his head down and to the side, looking up at her from a slight angle, one eyebrow raised, and said very distinctly, very coldly, "I do not need your money, Lilly. More to the point, explain why you have packed up your belongings."

Lilly picked up on the coldness of his voice, the anger in it, which confused her. Why was he angry with her? Sherlock made as if to hand back the cheque, but Lilly put her hands behind her back, shaking her head, and would not take it. She had been fairly sure that he would try to refuse payment for the case, he was a prideful man after all, but being a business woman herself, she knew that things cost money. Even if she didn't enjoy shopping, that did not mean that she was unaware of the expense of the clothing he had purchased for her. In addition, it would be beyond inappropriate for her to accept so expensive a gift from a man unrelated to her. Surely, Sherlock could understand that.

Still, even if he was offended by her attempting to pay him, that did not explain his sudden coldness. It didn't make sense. She could understand if he was irritated or annoyed with the cheque, but why angry? Ah. Not the cheque then. Could it be it was the packing he objected to? Why? That didn't make any sense either. Naturally, she would be leaving Baker Street. The case was resolved. There was no longer any reason to remain here in hiding. She looked over at Sherlock who was still staring at her coldly and realized that they would have to have this conversation at some time, and apparently that time is now. She rubbed her temples against the headache which was forming and sighed with mild frustration at Sherlock, which caused him to look at her sharply with suspicion. It was going to be a very trying day.

"I just thought I should pack up. As you well know, if you found Victoria last night, which of course you did, this case is finished." Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she decided to go with cheeky in the face of pigheadedness. "You solved it, Sherlock. It was Victoria in the kitchen with the lead pipe. Correct?"

"Clever girl." One side of Sherlock's mouth twitched upward slightly as he allowed Lilly's cheekiness to defrost him a smidge. Enough at least to allow for a touch of pride and a bit of his natural desire to show off to come through in his voice. "Actually it was Victoria in Harrods's with a disposable mobile phone, but you were close. Though with only one out of three, not nearly close enough, so I still win."

"Clever boy." Lilly grinned at him, leaning forward to brush a cluster of wayward curls away from his face, then resting her palm against his cheek. Perhaps this would not be as difficult as she had anticipated. In the face of her smile, Sherlock was forced to let go of the rest of the coldness in his manner, letting it melt away from him until he was compelled to reached up and grab her hand, pulling her onto his lap and burying his face in her hair. This was followed by some indistinct mumbling coming from Sherlock. Lilly pulled away so she could look at him, "I'm sorry, I couldn't quite make out what you said."

"That does not explain why you have 'packed up'." The slightly accusatory tone in Sherlock's voice was not lost on Lilly. Okay. She was wrong. This was going to be as difficult as she had anticipated. The man was going to make her say it.

"Really? I rather thought it did." Lilly tried to keep her voice smooth and cool, while inside she felt very muddled up. She wanted very much to just stay here with Sherlock forever, but that was a silly romantic notion. She had to be practical, she had to make a life for herself. Once she was settled elsewhere she would have the clarity to use her mind and heart to analyse what she really wanted, what she truly felt for Sherlock. When he was around her, she felt so consumed by him that she couldn't think straight. "As the case is solved and we will shortly be leaving to meet with my family, it is no longer necessary for you to 'hide' me here, Sherlock. So, I've packed up in preparation to leave here and go -"

"No. You will remain here." Sherlock was about to pull her close again so he could nuzzle her hair some more, but Lilly slipped out of his reach and positioned herself behind John's chair. Using it almost like a barricade against Sherlock's assured manner.

"What do you mean, remain here?" She stared across at Sherlock sitting there, more surprised than anything. What was he asking of her? Though, he really wasn't asking anything was he? He as telling her. Large difference there. She squared her shoulders and met his gaze directly. She was done having people tell her what to do. Even Sherlock. "Of course, I'm going, Sherlock, I have to. I've made some plans and Ron -"

Sherlock stood at the mention of Ron and advanced on her until the only thing separating them was John's chair. Even then, Sherlock leant forward a bit. There was a fair amount of determination in his eyes, staring her down, as if to bend her to his will. "You cannot return to your family, Lilly. That is obvious. Surely you can see that. It would be obvious to an untrained ape. Even your _Mr. Somers_ would be able to see the logical reasoning of this. So. I have thought it through and decided on the only practical course. You will move in here. With us. At Baker Street. It's the only logical solution."

Lilly looked steadily at Sherlock, trying to read him, read his emotions. He was talking like a pompous idiot, but there was something else going on here, and if she could only figure it out, she would know what to do. Naturally, she wanted to continue to see him, hoping something more would come of it, but to just move in here? Now? At this point in their relationship? She shook her head firmly. "No. Thank you, Sherlock. But no. I can't just move in here."

As these words left her mouth, John and Ron stepped through from the kitchen, more than a little alarmed by the conversation they had walked in on. Ron went to stand protectively next to Lilly, John stationed himself within clear view of Sherlock, anticipating the need to intervene at some point. Taking in the determined look on Sherlock's face and the apparent storm building in Lilly, clearly that point was approaching rather quickly.

"Of course you can. We can protect you here. You will have nothing to worry about. We will be your family. We will watch over you and protect you."" Sherlock began waving his hands in a manner that indicated the matter was settled, no more discussion needed.

"Sherlock, I don't need to be protected. I don't need to be sorted! Oh, don't look at me like that! We will get Victoria some help and that will be that. It's not like I live a terribly dangerous life, Sherlock. At most, I might be in danger of getting a paper cut in my work. Don't be silly. I do not need to move in here."

"Lilly, it's fine. We are more than willing to have you disrupt our lives." As Sherlock uttered these words, John groaned aloud at Sherlock's cluelessness and even Ron was starting to feel sorry for him, thinking if the man had an sense at all he would stop right there, but of course, Sherlock couldn't possibly be sensible and so continued, "John and I will get the other room sorted out and it will be fine."

That stopped Lilly cold. Really? Willing to have her disrupt their lives? Oh. How kind of them. Letting her stay here. In some _other _room! What other room? He wanted to be her to just be another flatmate or something? She felt hurt, rejected and irritated all at the same time. But mostly she felt angry.

John tried to signal to Sherlock to stop before he really cheesed Lilly off, but naturally Sherlock had to go ahead and do it anyway. "I am sorry, Lilly, but I will not allow you to return to those people."

Taking a deep breath, which was the signal that both john and Ron responded to by instinctively backing up, Lilly drew herself up to her full height which brought her level with Sherlock's chest and glared up at him. 'You will not allow me?"

"Of course I will not allow you to do something so illogical, Lilly. Don't be ridiculous!

With a voice so low and smooth, it even startled Sherlock, Lilly replied. "So. I'm ridiculous then? Good to know. Well. John, I am sorry, but it would appear that Ron and I will not be staying to dine after all. If it would not be too disruptive, please text Ron to let him know where we will be meeting Detective Inspector Lestrade. I have some things to take care of before then. I will see you later, John. Sherlock."

And with a quick nod of her head in Sherlock's direction, she picked up her belongings and with Ron by her side, she left Baker Street, but not at all in the way she had planned.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long wait...I've been a bit busy with life, the universe and everything...and doing some catching up on my Dr Who. But here is part one of two. This chapter really gave me a fight, but I finally let it win so here you are. I can say that I hope that part 2 will be ready to post soon, but the HOPE in this sentence is really big! Enjoy. - RS


	26. The Logic of Love

A/N: I know, I know. But it was either a longer wait for me to post or to make the chapter a 3 (at least) parter. Really enjoyed writing the 'boys', hope you enjoy it! - RS

**Chapter 25 – Coordinated Confrontations, part 2**

_In which John clues in a clueless Sherlock._

Into the shocked silence that followed the departure from 221B of Lady Lillian Fairfax and Mr. Ronald Somers, a stunned Sherlock sank down onto his chair, pulled his legs up, wrapping his arms around them and rested his forehead on his knees. He was so very bewildered as to what had just happened. Why had Lilly reacted like that? As if she thought he didn't want her here? It was quite evident that he did. Clearly. He had even gone so far as to explain his reasoning. And yet, based on the anger she had expressed, she had obviously mistaken his intent somehow. Now she was gone and he was unsure as to what he was supposed to do about it. If anything.

As he attempted replay the conversation in his mind to see where Lilly had gotten it wrong, he was interrupted by John's breathing. Good lord, the man was across the room and he could still hear him breathing. Deep inhalation, forceful exhale, 3 second pause, repeat. Based on this breathing pattern, Sherlock deduced that John was furious at him. For reasons which were not completely apparent to Sherlock. Taking a deep breath of his own, Sherlock composed his face into a blank mask before raising his head from his knees to look at John, who was standing there all but quivering in his anger. Sherlock remained a bit shaken by Lilly's abrupt leave-taking, but he was not about to show that to anyone, not even John. Which of course didn't mean much as he was fairly sure that John would be able to tell anyway. So he met John's eyes and calmly waited for the good doctor to start the lecture that was no doubt unavoidably imminent.

"Well, that went just brill, wouldn't you say? Just brilliant! Bloody hell, Sherlock, what is the matter with you?" John had started speaking with a finger pointed at Sherlock, then lowered it and straightened his spine, pulling his shoulders back, clasping his hands behind his back and widening his stance. Sherlock groaned inwardly as he recognising what he referred to in his own mind as John's modified inspection posture. Settling in as it were for the serious lecture he was about to give, which automatically put Sherlock on the defensive.

"You have to go after her and apologise. Really, I'm serious, Sherlock. Don't even try to argue with me about it. You were wrong." At that word, Sherlock's eyes suddenly turned an icy blue, as they narrowed dangerously and he turned that iciness on John, all but telling him to not go there, but John wasn't having any of that, and continued in a slightly louder voice, "Wrong, Sherlock. Yes, you were. Don't look at me like that. You were wrong and we both know it. And now you need to go after her, tell her you're sorry, that you're an idiot, whatever you need to say, and get that girl back. God knows, Sherlock, Lilly's shown she is willing to put up with an awful lot from you, an awful lot, but even I'm not surprised that she walked out after that display."

Still stung from the accusation that he was wrong, which was the one thing above all others that Sherlock abhorred being told he was, he coldly replied, "I don't know what you mean, John. Clearly Lilly is the one behaving in an illogical manner. I fail to see where I am in the wrong here."

When John snorted with mock laughter in response to that, it was enough to have Sherlock on his feet and advancing on him until they were a mere hand width apart and he was able to look down his nose at John. Height gave him an advantage, though the pyjama bottoms and bare feet did take something away from the intimidation he was trying to project. John just stood his ground and glared up at Sherlock towering over him. Sherlock had to give John some credit for not backing down, even as it annoyed him to continue this conversation. Though perhaps by discussing this episode with John, it might prove helpful in deciphering what exactly it was that Lilly took umbrage to.

Still, he was very irritated with John for telling him he was wrong. How could he possibly be wrong? Perhaps he needed to repeat the logic to John for him to understand. "I was merely trying to reassure her that she had a place here with us. That she did not have to return to her family. And I am using the term _family_ very loosely here."

"How completely clueless are you, Sherlock? Do you even have the slightest idea, the very slightest at all, what you just said to that lovely girl?" John, who was still noticeably angry and not taking any pains to hide it, backed up so he could look Sherlock in the eye to see if any of this was getting through that thick head of his. "Besides calling her _ridiculous_, which anyone who had any sense, any sense at all, would know not to do by the way, besides that, Sherlock, you basically told her that if she moved in here she would not be an _inconvenience. _An inconvenience, Sherlock! You clot! You bleedin' git!"

"Well, she was being ridiculous, John! Completely illogical." In the face of John's name calling, Sherlock retreated in a huff back to his chair, throwing himself down sideways so his legs hung over the arm. So far, he thought, this wasn't turning out to be particularly helpful to his understanding of what had gone amiss with Lilly. Fine, he could comprehend how the term _ridiculous_ could have possibly upset her, but how in the world could she have taken offence to his attempt to reassure her? Clearly, John was _wrong_ about that! "And for that matter, please explain how my attempt to reassure her that it would be of _no inconvenience_ to us for her to move in could possibly have been the incorrect thing to do."

"Oh my god, for a genius, you are so bloody dim sometimes, Sherlock. Listen to what you just said. How can you not get it? No woman in love wants to have the man she's in love with tell her that she wouldn't be an inconvenience, or to put as you so eloquently did earlier," John put his hands up and did the two finger bracket motion on either side of his head, "Quote_ we are more than willing to have you disrupt our lives_ end quote."

Sherlock didn't hear anything John said after the 'woman in love/the man she's in love with' part. It was like his brain got stuck there and kept replaying that part over and over. Lilly loved him? How could John possibly know that? More to the point, what did that actually mean, Lilly being in love with him? The entire concept of love, being in love, falling in love, etc etc, was alien to Sherlock. It was an emotion, a completely illogical biological reaction. One that he didn't have a great deal of experience with. Oh, he was aware that it was _possible_ for someone to become attracted to him and to consider themselves in love with him. There had been a few females, when he was younger and hadn't yet understood to make it clear right away that he wasn't interested, who had expressed that sentiment to him. He was aware that Molly Hooper had some sort of silly notion about him, though she seemed to have gotten over it last night… Hmmm. The Woman, Irene Adler, had shown that she had been strongly attracted to him not that long ago and see where that got her! Ha! So it wasn't that he couldn't understand that someone might become attracted to him to the point of falling in love, it was that it just didn't seem like a very logical thing to do. With him being as he was and all. Not exactly _love_ material, so to say. And one thing he did know for certain about Lilly was that for the most part she was a very logical person. He had found it to be exciting to watch as she logically worked through an idea or a problem. He actually enjoyed observing as she used her mind. So this whole idea of illogical emotion seemed not altogether fitting. Although, if Lilly was experiencing this imbalance of emotional attachment to him, that would go quite a long way in explaining her illogical behaviour this morning.

At that thought, Sherlock turned the analysis onto himself, and his own behaviour. What was he feeling for Lilly? Was it possible that he was in love with her also? It was a struggle to attempt understand all this…raw feeling, this churning emotional wave. In love? Was that the label for what all of this was? All this touching, kissing, showing of affection? This is what it felt like to be _in love_? He _was_ clueless, apparently. All the feelings that he had been experiencing with Lilly were confusing, because he had never actually had these precise sensations before. What he had felt for the Adler woman was not even close to the _feelings_ he was experiencing with Lilly. He had admired Irene, her genius, her style, but he had not _loved_ her, nor had he been _in love_ with her apparently, though he had quite _liked_ her rather a lot.

Oh, of course, he had felt _love_ before. He loved his mother, he had loved Nanny, and he loved Mrs. Hudson, naturally. The love of a boy, then of a man, for his mother and the other caring women in his life. He loved Mycroft, who in spite of everything was his brother after all. He even loved John, as his best and only friend, not that he would ever admit that though. But this feeling for Lilly was very different from the feelings he had for his mother, Mycroft or John. No, this type of love was new. Compared to the force of what he felt for Lilly, what he felt for the others seemed a mere fondness.

He became aware that John had stopped talking. From the way that his friend was staring so intently at him, it might have been awhile, and he did seem to be waiting for a response of some kind. Time occasionally passed differently for Sherlock than it did for other people, and this appeared to be one of those occasions, though he didn't think it had been more than a few moments based on the angle of the shadows in the room caused by the light filtering in through the window.

Sherlock flipped his legs around and planted his feet on the floor, sitting upright in the chair. Tilting his head slightly down and to the right, he looked up at John suspiciously from under his brow. "How do you know?"

John, caught off guard by the abrupt question, was confused for a moment, as he had been waiting for Sherlock to answer the question he had himself asked Sherlock over a minute ago, which was_ what are you going to do about this_…and wasn't sure what they were talking about now. "What are you going on about Sherlock? I'm still waiting for you to tell me how you plan to fix this."

"That isn't important right now, John. Tell me. How. Do. You. Know?"

John blew a hard breath out and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Fine. We'll do it your way. I'll play along. How do I know what?"

"You called Lilly a woman in love, John. You inferred that she was in love with me. How could you possibly know that?" Sherlock's eyes lost their focus for a bit, then he looked up sharply at John. "Based on your failure to find _love_ on your own behalf, I do not know that I should be trusting in your ability to recognise it in others."

"Well, thanks for that, Sherlock. Could you be a bigger arse? I don't know why I bother with you!" John turned away impatiently, then remembered that this was Sherlock he was talking to, a man who most of the time really didn't mean to be such an arse on purpose. Trying to keep that in mind, he took a deep calming breath before turning back to face Sherlock with a fake smile of mild interest on his face and his arms folded over his chest. "Would you like to take a stab at my skills as a medical doctor next?"

"Oh please, John, you know what I meant. I was merely referring to-"

"Oh shut up, I know what you were referring to but we are not talking about me, Sherlock. We are talking about you and Lilly. And I know because, besides that fact that anyone with eyes can see how she feels about you, it's that embarrassingly obvious, except of course to the world's most observant man, that she's in love with you, besides that Sherlock, I know because she told me. She sat right there in the kitchen with me, last night, drinking hot chocolate, and told me that she loved you. Yup. Straight out. Lilly told me, Sherlock. Told me she loved you. So. That's good enough to be going on, don't you think, eh?"

Quite, Sherlock thought. More than enough to be going on. Standing up, he grinned at John, surprising him with the sudden change in his demeanor. Gesturing with an elegant hand down along his body, he continued, "Well, what about me then, John? Based on my recent behaviour and what you see before you now. Would you say that I'm in love with Lilly? Just your expert opinion will do."

John slowly nodded his head as he grinned back. "Oh, yes. Sherlock, my friend, you are. You are indeed. Crazy in love with Lilly. In my expert opinion."

"Hmmm. Interesting. Very much so. In fact, I do believe you to be correct in your opinion. Your assistance in clearing this particular matter up was most helpful, John. Yes. Quite helpful. Clearly, I must be in love with Lilly." Sherlock stood there in his pyjama bottoms and bare feet, looking thoughtful, but not alarmed at the idea of being in love with Lilly. Then with a quick nod of his head, he walked around John and toward the bedroom with the intention of getting dressed, adding over his shoulder, "With that terribly important revelation out of the way, what say you to getting on with the business of wrapping up Lilly's case? Call Lestrade. Have him collect Victoria, Lady Constance and Lord Henry and inform him that we will meet them at the morgue in two hours. Text Somers and have him deliver Lilly there also, and to tell her to wait in Molly's office until we are ready. I've already texted Molly of what we will require from her."

As he heard the bedroom door shut, John just stood there shaking his head and wondering once again what exactly went on in that man's head. One minute admitting he's in love, this man who claims to not feel emotions, the next moving right on to business at hand. But still with no plan on how he plans to fix things with Lilly when all is said and done! He set about texting Ron Somers and was just about to call Lestrade, when the bedroom door opened again, and Sherlock poked his head out.

"And once we have all that out of the way, I'll turn my energies into groveling or what have you, in order to win back the favour of the fair Lady. Though I may require some of your assistance with that as well."

John's first thought in response was that the man must read minds. His second thought was that Sherlock was going to need all the help he could get. The third thought being fairly sure Lilly wouldn't put up too much of a fight if faced with a groveling Sherlock. Still, the final thought, was that he might actually enjoy watching that.


	27. Lestrade Settles Unfinished Business

A/N: Surprise! I bet you thought you'd never hear from me again! So so sorry it's been AGES since the last update. I was having a story crisis. I realized that I was feeling rushed to wrap this up, so the last chapter thing became part 1, then part 2, then it was looking like it might end up being part 42 or something ridiculous.

So here's the scoop: I've renamed the last two chapters that I had posted as Coordinated Confrontations part 1 & 2. (I can't tell you the relief I feel having finally committed myself to a course of action rather than just mucking about not updating!) I'm also in the process of cleaning up previous chapters, like spelling, grammar and some general rewrites with some stuff I wasn't happy with. I'm not sure how many more chapters this story has coming, and I guess it really doesn't matter as long as they work and the writing is good. If you listen very carefully you can hear it...the sound of me letting go of the angst of 'what to do, what to do' and embracing the joy of 'just do it already'! - RS

**Chapter 26 – Lestrade Settles Unfinished Business**

_In which Lestrade confronts Donovan._

Lestrade was pacing in his office at New Scotland Yard. All night he had been wondering how to bring up the subject of that text with Sally Donovan, and he was still undecided whether he was actually angry or just disappointed with her. He knew the matter had to be resolved, so he had left her a message to come to his office as soon as possible. Looking out into the incident room, he noted that Donovan was coming toward his office, and quickly decided that sitting behind his desk would put him in the power position. By the time Donovan leant into the doorway of his office, he was seated behind the desk, busy perusing the Fairfax file.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Sally was wondering why he had called her to his office, as she usually knew what he wanted before he asked for it, but she wasn't especially concerned about why Lestrade might want to see her. He was her boss, he wanted to see her in his office, so here she was, as requested. She hoped it wouldn't last long as she had just been thinking of popping out to get a bite.

"Donovan. Come in. Shut the door behind you, please." As he said this, he didn't look up at her, just continued scanning the file in his hand. This struck Sally as odd, as he usually left the door to his office open. But she did as instructed and then turned back to face the desk.

She noted that it was the case file on the Fairfax abduction, and began wondering if there had been a development. As far as she was aware, they hadn't gotten any new information on the case since yesterday when they went to Reigate. In fact, now that she thought about it, she recalled that although Lestrade had left early yesterday, he hadn't even checked back in to see if there had been any developments, which wasn't like him when they were in the middle of a big case.

Sally wasn't sure what the DI wanted with her, but seeing him with the file, she figured the girl must have turned up or something and that was why Lestrade had called her in to see him like this. She was annoyed with herself for not figuring it out sooner. Of course, she had been real busy following up on that tip they received regarding the Marylebone murder and the subsequent interview with the suspect they picked up for it. Open and shut that one, boyfriend guilty as sin.

Lestrade did not ask her to sit down. Nor did he make a move to indicate that she should sit. Normally, Sally would have just sat down in the chair in front of her without being asked, as Lestrade tended to be rather relaxed about rank for the most part, but something in her boss' demeanor stopped her from doing so. Lestrade remained preoccupied with the file, leaving Sally to continue standing behind the visitor chair, not so patiently waiting for her boss to tell her what he wanted. She was starting to get the feeling that she was not here just for a wee chat.

As he didn't seem inclined to start the conversation anytime soon and the quiet was starting to feel a might oppressive, Sally cleared her throat and asked again, "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did." Lestrade sounded distracted when he finally answered. He was still glancing through the file, not looking at her, as he had been doing since she entered the room, which was really strange as he almost always made eye contact when speaking with someone. "I've been just sitting here thinking about the lack of leads that we've had in this Fairfax abduction. Naught to go on, from the very beginning seems like. And then when we finally did get a decent one, when we got that lead from Victoria Burke about that text she was sent, it was just too late."

"Yes, sir. A real shame that was." A slight shiver of guilt ran though her at the thought of the text. That damn text. Sally was beginning to feel like that text was a like a sore tooth. Nothing but misery.

"Yeah. It was, wasn't it?" At this Lestrade tipped back in his chair, and swiveled it back and forth a bit, seemingly in deep thought. Then he finally looked up at Sally for the first time since she had entered the room and added, "Moreover, I've a niggling feel that if we would've gotten that lead sooner, we might've been in time to get to the girl before she disappeared from that cemetery."

The way he was looking at her made Sally wonder if he knew about the text. No. He couldn't. There was no way he could have found out. She cleared her throat and decided to try to down play the importance of the text. "Well, we don't know for sure that she was even there. Could have been a false lead."

"Nuh. I don't think that's true. She was there." Lestrade replied firmly, and then looked thoughtfully over at Sally. "Oh, by the by, Donovan, how you feeling today?"

"Excuse me, sir? I feel fine. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I dunno, no real reason. I just remembered that yesterday forenoon you seemed like you were maybe not feeling so well. You seemed a bit peaked right before we ran out of here to get to Reigate on that Lady Lillian lead. But I didn't get a chance to ask you about it then."

There was a moment of silence in the room as Lestrade paused as if to give her a chance to say something in response and Donovan's mind was racing to figure out what he was trying to get at. A sick feeling started in her stomach as she considered that perhaps he did know about the text she had received and ignored. But how could he? Well, if he was fishing, she wasn't about to jump onto the hook. Best keep her mouth shut until she knew what he was actually after. After a moment, Lestrade put the file down as he noted how pale and queasy Sargent Donovan was starting to look.

"Ah. Feeling a tad ill again are you, Sargent? That's a shame it is. A real shame. Mayhap you should go home for the day? No?" Lestrade had decided that he had had about as much muckin' about with Donovan as he was willing to do. From the look of her, it didn't appear that she would be forthcoming about the text. He decided to give her one more chance to come clean, but if she didn't fess up, he would have to put her in her place and let her know he wasn't going to put up with a liar on his team. "Well l dunno about you, but I've found that a bit of confession can do a body a world of good. Yeah, confession's good for the soul, they say. And rumour has it you 'ave some confessing to do."

"I don't know what you mean, sir." Sally straightened her shoulders and tossed her head defiantly. It was very clear to her that he knew something, but she still wasn't about to give it up until he spelled it out. As far as she knew, he could be talking about anything from her parking last week in Dimmock's designated space to not making a new pot of coffee after she drank the last of it yesterday morning. Unlikely, yes, but still possible.

"Oi, give over, Donovan! I know about the text." Raising his voice and adding steel to it, Lestrade stood and glared at her from across his desk. It startled Sally so much she physically flinched, which gave him some satisfaction. "And I have to tell you, I was gobsmacked that find out that one of my people, one of my team, could possibly have had vital information and withheld it. What in the hell were you thinking?"

"Text, sir?" Sally swallowed visibly, then cleared her throat. How could he possibly know about the text? No sense trying to avoid it now, best to make a clean statement. "Yes, sir. On the night of the abduction, I did receive a text from an unknown sender. The sender information was blocked and I didn't think the text was important, or that it had any connection to the abduction, sir. I mean, why would someone send that information directly to me? I was off duty sir. I thought perhaps it was one of my mates or someone sending it as a joke."

"Oh? When did you realise that it did have a bearing on this case, Sargent?"

"When I saw the text from Victoria Burke's phone, sir. I recognised the numbers from the text I received. But, I didn't have any way of knowing that the text was information on the case. How could I have known that!?"

"Why didn't you say something when you realised that it was the same as Ms. Burke's text?"

"Honestly, I was just so surprised that I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to do."

"Donovan, you should have told me right then. Instead of hiding it. Lying about it. You know I could have you written up for this. Even if you didn't understand what the text was when you got it, you sure as hell knew what it was later. You withheld vital information in an active case. You might have jeopardised the welfare of the victim."

"I know sir. I'm sorry. I should have brought it to your attention as soon as I realised. I made a mistake, but I swear it won't happen again. What I don't understand though is how you came to know of it, sir? You said you heard a rumor? A rumor from whom? I haven't spoken to anyone about it."

"It was a tip from a very reliable source, so let's just leave it at that, Sargent. Now, here's what we are going to do about this. I'm going have to note the incident in your file, but this time I'll put it down more as an oversight on your part rather than as a disregard of vital information in an active investigation."

"Thank you, sir. It won't happen again."

"It better not, Donovan. More over if for some reason something like this should come up in the future, I trust that you will be aware of the need to follow up on it or contact your superior officer to advise you regarding what you should or shouldn't do about it. We'll consider the matter settled for now."

"Yes, sir. Will there be anything else?"

"Yeah, there is actually, I need you to go straight away and pick up Victoria Burke, who is wanted for questioning in connection with the abduction of Lillian Fairfax.

"What? You're joking, right? Victoria Burke is a suspect now?" Donovan snorted with amusement. "I don't get it."

"This is no joke, Donovan. I want you to go and pick her up. If she will agree to go with you freely, lovely, otherwise, I want you to arrest her."

"Let me get this straight. You want me to go pick up Burke and bring her in, but if she is disinclined, I'm to arrest her?"

"Yeah, freely or cuffed, but either way make sure you caution her. However, I don't want you to bring her back here. Once you have her, you're to bring her to St Bart's morgue. I will meet you there."

"Now you are joking!"

"Do I look like I'm joking? Really, Donovan, do you want to be arguing with me right now? As you seem to keep forgetting, I am your superior officer. That's something you might want to start remembering as I haven't made my notes in your file yet. We could do this the hard way or you could just do as you are told. So what's it gonna be?"

* * *

A/N: Once again I have to say, I feel so bad about the long wait, I hope it was kinda worth it and you enjoyed this chapter. A huge thank you for all of those who have hung in there waiting patiently (or not so patiently) for me to get my **** together. I promise I will update as soon as possible. I do appreciate the support and knowing that you are waiting makes for a whole lot of guilt to get the next chapter out. I will be replacing previous chapters soon, and I'm not sure how that works actually, so if you see that I've updated and there isn't a **new** chapter, please bear with me (or re-read!) and I'll have a brand new sparkly one coming up soon. Next time we will all be meeting in the morgue at St Barts! - RS


	28. The Family Dynamic

A/N: Thank you all for your patience with the longer times between posting new chapters. I'm finding I don't have as much time for writing lately, and though I could post sooner, I just can't post something that I feel is less than the best I could do. I hope you enjoy reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. I wasn't too sure about it at first, but it turned out to be one of my favorite chapters.

**Chapter 27 – The Family Dynamic**

_In which Lord Henry & Lady Constance are introduced to Sherlock Holmes._

Lord Henry Fairfax was a broken man. His daughter, his little Lilly-flower, had been missing for over 48 hours and still there had been no sign of her. No one seemed to know where she was or what could have happened to her. He was worried, he was distraught, he was afraid he would never see Lilly again. Two days of worry, two nights of no sleep were beginning to take its toll. There were deep bruise like discolourations under his eyes, and his normally proud posture was slumped and dejected. His wife, Constance, had also been deeply affected. Henry had enough presence of mind to notice how pale and drawn Constance had been the last two days, though he had noted that there seemed to be a strange nervousness about her also, which he couldn't quite understand. Victoria had been to see them the day before, which always put Constance on edge, but Henry thought it was perhaps more than usual. He had been much relieved when Victoria had finally left, as she had been not been helpful in the slightest and her mood had been so agitated that her presence in the house had been so very wearisome.

In spite of his fears or more likely because of them, Henry was not well pleased with the Metropolitan Police in general nor DI Lestrade in particular. It seemed to him that they should have some idea by now of what had become of Lilly. It had occurred to him that he may have tied their hands, so to speak, requesting that the people involved in the investigation be kept to a minimum. Constance had recommended keeping the abduction as quiet as possible, which at the time seemed like sound advice. Now he was no longer sure if it had been the right thing to do. Still, the police should have been able to turn something up.

When the call from Scotland Yard had finally come at last, requesting that he and his wife meet with DI Lestrade at St Bartholomew's hospital as soon as possible, Lord Henry's expectation had been that they had found Lilly. Of course, the police wouldn't tell him anything about her condition over the phone, but he had anticipated being briefed immediately upon arrival at hospital. However, instead of being shown to the ward or being greeted by a physician, they had been met at the main entrance by DI Lestrade himself, which was something he supposed, as at least the man hadn't sent a lackey to do the escorting. After a decidedly hurried greeting, during which Lestrade remained very closed mouthed about what was going on, they had been hustled rudely along the corridors until arriving here at the hospital's mortuary.

When he realised that it was in fact the morgue, he had felt as if he could no longer breathe. No. It couldn't be. Not Lilly. He didn't think he could stand the sudden pain in his chest. He came to a halt at the doorway and was unable to will his feet to move one step further. Constance took his elbow in her hand and continued into the room behind Lestrade, guiding her shocked husband along with her. He had no choice but to follow. A quick glance at her lovely face told him she was as shocked as he was, but she was a strong woman, stronger than he himself was and he knew that no matter what they had to face here, they would face it together. She had a great fondness for Lilly, though she often had trouble giving voice to it and with the physical demonstration of affection toward Lilly. He himself found it difficult to express his affection for Lilly, though he wasn't entirely sure when that had changed.

A memory came to him suddenly. It was spring time. Lilly must have been five years old or so. He had taken her for a walk around the grounds because she wished to see the flowers that had begun to bloom. They had walked for over an hour, just the two of them, out of the gardens and into the wood. When they had been on their return to the house, the wind had picked up and it began to get cold. Lilly wasn't dressed for the sudden change in weather, so Henry had picked her up in his arms to carry her, and she had twisted her body around like she always did when he carried her, until she had her arms around his neck, and her little legs wrapped around his waist as best as she could, cuddling her little body close to his for warmth. He remembered her hair, the same rich red colour as her mother's, had smelled of sunshine. Worried about them, Adele had been waiting at the edge of the garden with coats and Cook had hot chocolate ready for them in the house. It seemed like it was all just yesterday, Henry thought coming back to the present, not twenty years ago. They had been so close, Lilly and he, when she was young. What had happened to change that? A tug on his elbow returned his mind to the dreaded task awaiting him.

Upon entering the room, which was still and quiet, clean and sterile, very white and uncaringly cold, the first thing Henry noted with great relief was that it was also empty. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, a sheet covered table perhaps, but he was vastly relieved not to be immediately confronted by the remains of his daughter. He started to speak, but all that came out was a weak croak. His heart was breaking, but he would be strong. Mustn't embarrass oneself in a weak show of emotion. He pulled his shoulders back, straightened his spine, and after clearing his throat, began again. "I am confused, Inspector. Please explain to me why my wife and I have been brought here. I believe this is the morgue."

"Yes, Lord Henry, I'm aware of where we are." Lestrade wasn't enjoying this part of his arrangement with Sherlock. It felt beyond cruel to subject these people to even the implied thought that their daughter was dead. Still, Sherlock had requested it and Lilly had agreed to it, so here he was, playing with these people's emotions. Sherlock and his dramatics! He just hoped he had a job when this was all through. Keeping his voice as calm and professional as possible, he continued, "The ongoing investigation into your daughter's disappearance has led us here."

"Are you trying to tell me that Lillian is dead, Lestrade?" Henry's voice faltered on 'dead', but he recovered himself with a reminder to be strong. If he had to be here, facing what no parent ever wants to face, he did not wish to have do it in front of strangers. Standing up as tall as he could, he glared at Lestrade. "Is that what this is all about, Inspector? Are to you trying to tell me that my daughter is dead? If so, please do so and be done! Then leave my wife and I to our mourning."

"Henry, please. Don't say such a thing. I am quite sure that this is a mistake. Darling, we must remain positive that Lilly is alright, and confident that she will be returned to us soon." Constance's words were at odds with the sudden paleness of her face, which alarmed Henry. As did the fact that she wouldn't meet his eyes when she spoke. He could feel the slight vibration of her hand shaking where it gripped his coat sleeve, betraying her emotion.

Lestrade also noted the change in Constance's posture and began to worry that she might faint or worse. That was all he needed. He just hoped Sherlock wouldn't delay in arriving or he would feel morally obligated to tell these people that Lilly was okay just to stop their distress. "Lord Henry, I apologise for any inconvenience or distress this location may cause you and your wife, but we have good reasons for bringing the both of you here this afternoon. Very good reasons, sir. It was necessary, but I'm not at liberty to reveal those reasons to you at this time. You will need to be patient, sir, and all will be explained, I assure you."

Henry had always considered himself to be a very patient man, but he wanted answers and he wanted them immediately and right now the Detective Inspector in front of him would be bearing the brunt of his distress. Which naturally manifested itself in anger on behalf of both Constance and himself. "This is outrageous! Lestrade, I demand an explanation immediately!"

"As do I." A deep baritone voice came from the far end of the room. Lestrade let out a sigh of relief when he heard it, but the disembodied voice startled the distressed couple as they had thought the room to be empty. As they watched, a tall very thin young man wearing a black suit came out from behind a curtain and approached them. He didn't look like a doctor, or even a police man, though his demeanor was very commanding. Henry automatically assumed that he was a man of some importance, but was not exactly sure why he thought that.

"Outrageous!" The man continued his approach speaking again, shouting out the first word with his hand thrust up toward the ceiling, then lowering it to his side and continuing on with a calm lightly modulated tone, "Yes. I would have to agree. It is. However. There is one point upon which we do not agree, Lord Henry Fairfax. Whereas there is an explanation demanding to be given, it is not due from Detective Inspector Lestrade. No. An explanation regarding your behaviour, your, shall we say, culpability in the matter of your daughter's disappearance is due from you, sir."

"What do you mean?" Henry was confused by the sudden attack from this strange young man, who had stopped his approach to them and was now half way across the room, standing very still with his head tilted slightly as if he was waiting for something. His cold hard eyes glittered and the expression on his face showed obvious distaste for what he was looking at, which happened to be Henry and Constance. In spite of his confusion, Henry wasn't going to be treated in this manner by anyone. He glared over at the young man. "Who are you? How dare you speak to me in this way?"

The man emitted a quick brittle snort of amusement, "Ha! _You_ would ask _me_ how I dare to speak to you in this manner, Lord Henry? Not feeling a bit of guilt then? Fine. I will answer your question, though I have a few of my own to ask. The answer is thus: I dare to speak to you in this way, which I can only assume you view as rude, because you claim to be a_ loving_ father to your missing daughter, Lillian, and yet you have held back from getting _all_ the help you could to see her safe again."

"Who is this man?" Henry's face turned whiter in response to the accusation. He glanced at Lestrade, but when the DI refused to meet his eyes, he stared at the young man again, his body shaking in distress, grief and guilt. Yes, guilt. An emotion he had been feeling but hadn't fully recognized until it was put into words by this rude stranger. "Sir! I demand that you identify yourself!"

The man quirked up one side of his mouth with a smile which did not reach his eyes, and mockingly replied, "Oh. The pleasantries. Yes. We may as well get them over with so we may move on. Though I'm quite sure that there will be no pleasure in our meeting. My name is Sherlock Holmes."

At that announcement Constance drew in a sharp breath, causing all eyes to turn to her. She shook her head as if to clear it and clutched Henry's elbow a bit firmer. Oh yes. She had heard of Sherlock Holmes the detective. He had been in the papers and the subject of conversation during various luncheon dates with friends. She was even quite sure she had met his mother, who was a friend of a friend, at a recent charity gala. Lovely woman, strikingly beautiful, very intelligent, if a bit cold. Naturally, her son would resemble her, Constance thought with not a little fear creeping into her heart, which skipped a beat when she noted the intense way he was now looking at her, like he could see through her body and read her mind.

Sherlock focused his deductive observations completely on Constance for a moment. Clothes: neat, clean, slightly wrinkled from sitting. Face: pale and drawn, slight tick at corner of right eye, tightness around mouth. Body language: shoulders back and straight, stance defensive, chin raised slightly, mildly defiant, hand on husband's elbow possessive, not protective. Result of deduction: Tension and worry. Both of which had increased with the mention of his name. So add guilt also. What he had expected actually.

Sherlock didn't bother to conceal the disgust he felt for her from his voice. "Ah. So you _have_ heard of me, Lady Constance. Should I be flattered? Well. I'm not. Correct me if I'm wrong, which I rarely am, but wasn't it _you_ who asked Lestrade here not to bring me into the case of your missing step daughter? Obviously, if you have some idea of _who I am_, you would be more than aware of _what I do_. And more to the point, _how well I do it_. So I have to ask myself. Why would you not want my help? Most curious that."

When Constance did not answer, except to shake her head again, Sherlock turned his attention back to Henry, making a quick scan of his appearance. Clothes: wrinkled, slept in, coffee stain on left cuff, socks mismatched. Face: skin very pale, bags under the eyes, _correction_ no _restful_ sleep then, three nicks on chin and one on cheek from shaving. Body language: slight tremor in left hand, posture slumped as if defeated, leaning in for support from wife's hand on right elbow, confusion in gaze directed at wife. Ah. Result of deduction: Worry, distress and grief. Not what Sherlock had been expecting. Still. The man should have tried harder, if he really cared for Lilly…

Recovering from his momentary pity for Lilly's father, Sherlock pressed on. "As the cat appears to have your wife's tongue, sir, perhaps you could enlighten me?"

"Constance? What is he talking about?" Henry was becoming increasingly confused, gazing at his wife in bewilderment, wondering why she was refusing to look at him. Was this Sherlock person implying that she knew something about Lilly? How could she? Flustered by the guilty manner she was presenting, he pulled away and looked at her as if he had never seen her before in his life, stating sharply, "Answer me! I demand answers!"

"Don't we all? Hmm. No. Actually I do not. The answers are already known by me." Sherlock stated smugly to the room in general, clasping his hands behind his back and regarding the ceiling thoughtfully. Spinning on his heel, he began to pace back and forth, then stopped suddenly and began to chuckle lightly. To the general confusion of his audience, he added, with an amused half-smile and a wink directed at Lestrade, "Ah. Cluedo. Yes. Hmmm. So. Where were we? Oh. Yes. Answers are being demanded. We will get there, Lord Henry, we will get there. But. More to the point, I would be mildly interested to hear what your wife should care to say in her own defense. And mind, I use the word _defense_ very lightly."

"I don't know what you are talking about young man. Whatever it is that you think you know about me, you are mistaken." Constance added as much steel to her voice as she could muster being as she was completely taken aback by the accusation and flustered because she had begun to worry that he might actually know something about her. It was true that she had panicked when she heard his name mentioned by Lestrade on the day that Lilly went missing. It had been only shortly before overhearing DI Lestrade saying "Sherlock Holmes" that she had begun to wonder about the possibility that Victoria was involved somehow, but at the time, she had been convinced that she could fix all of this. Now she knew. There was no way to fix any of this. It was completely out of her hands. She reached out to her husband, her heart breaking a bit when he backed away from her. "Please. Henry, don't listen to him. Believe me, I don't have any idea where Lilly is. If I did, don't you think I would have said something? Honestly, darling, I don't know where she is or what's happened to her."

"Ah. Deciding to go with deflection as a line of defense, Lady Constance? Perhaps better than outright lies to your way of thinking? Do you really think so? Hmmm. Well then. It appears that the enlightenment due our little gathering is left to me. Though before I begin I really must say, your voice does sound a bit different on the answerphone than it does in person. But then that's true of everyone, isn't it?" Sherlock responded to Constance's gasp with a raised eyebrow and knowing look at the horrified expression that came to her face. With a slightly mischievous smile playing on his lips, he continued, "Ah. Yes. You are thinking that what I'm referring to is impossible. But let me assure you, it is not only possible, it happened. You could say that I heard it with my own ears…but I'm getting ahead of myself.

"So. Lord Henry. Those answers that you were demanding. Well, we have arrived. Oh. There is so much to tell. Where to begin. Where to begin... Let's see. Ah!" Sherlock stopped as if to order his thoughts properly, then began to pace back and forth before his audience, reciting his list of words in a rhythmic, almost musical cadence. "Plotting. Scheming. Plans. GPS Coordinates. Disposable mobile phones. Stolen uniform. Left Luggage, claim tickets. Money, more money! Some staging involved. Drug dealer. Drugs! Syringes. The boot of the car. Homeless people. Yes. Zip ties. Very effective. Why take her clothes? Interesting. Bottled water. Thin blanket. Very cold stone building. Very very cold. Very very dark. Unexpected delays. Too much fun! Unreliable help. Even more unexpected text messages. Cleverness. More cleverness. My, my we did have to wonder. Will a rape kit be necessary?"

Sherlock's recitation was interrupted at that point by a howl of despair that issued from Henry. "Stop! Please, I beg of you, stop this and tell me where my daughter is! You know where she is, don't you? Tell me! Let me see her, please…"

Lestrade, who had remained by the door throughout all of this, stepped forward, gesturing at Sherlock to indicate that they needed to end this soon. Sherlock noted him and nodded his head, giving him permission to deliver his more or less assigned lines in this little play, as planned. "Lord Henry, I can assure you that your daughter is safe, and happily very much alive."

As Henry looked to Lestrade as if he was a life boat in this sea of uncertain despair, Sherlock moved in for the final blow. "The fact that Lilly is safe and alive is no thanks to you or your wife. We are here in this morgue to bring home the fact to you, sir, that there well could have been a very different ending to this abduction."

"Why do you keep treating me as if this is my doing? She's my daughter. I love her. I would never do anything to harm Lilly." Henry alternated his confused glances between Lestrade, who looked uncomfortable and Sherlock who remained cold and stern. Relief that Lilly was safe overwhelmed him, but still Henry didn't like the feeling he was getting that somehow all of this was his fault, which caused him to try to bring the attention of everyone back to where it should be. On the person who actually did abduct Lillian. Pointing a finger directly at Sherlock, he asked in a hoarse voice, "Where is this abductor? Who are they? Are you doing nothing to discover who did this?"

"Oh but I have discovered who did this. I even know why. In fact, at this very moment, the person actively responsible for Lilly's abduction is in the custody of Scotland Yard and on their way here. But I will tell you. This action was not born alone in a bubble. It had help. Oh, yes, this person of whom I speak is responsible for the actual abduction, for the fear, for the harm that has come to Lilly as a result, and they will pay for that. But ultimately the blame for all of this has to be shared. Don't you think that is so, Lady Constance?"

At this question, Constance understood completely what had brought them to this point, and her own responsibility in the matter, and began to cry quietly, tears rolling down her face, as she nodded in response. Henry looked at his wife, still not following exactly where this was going, but starting to get an inkling of an idea. Did all of this have something to do with Victoria?

"Lord Henry, Lady Constance, I now lay the responsibility for all that Lilly has been through firmly on the two of you. You ultimately are to blame for Lilly's abduction, and her treatment at the hands of the abductor on the instructions of Victoria, yes Victoria, whom you were both very aware was having some issues that needed to be addressed and were not. Now we could ask DI Lestrade here what charges you could possibly be brought up for. Aiding and abetting, perhaps? For you anyway, Lady Constance, though that might be difficult to prosecute. Hmmm. At the least, we could be thinking more along the lines of impeding a police investigation. Wouldn't you agree, Lestrade?"

"Yeah. I would. If nothing else, there's the withholding of evidence. But my understanding is that perhaps the best way to deal with all of this would be to have Victoria sectioned. I can get an order to do just that, but we could avoid getting more people involved, Lady Constance, if you would just agree to sign the paperwork, as you are Victoria Burke's next of kin." He stopped to rub his hand on the back of his neck and before Constance could respond, they were interrupted once again by a disembodied voice coming from the back of the room.

"If you don't, Constance. I will." As these words filled the room and caught everyone's attention, Lilly stepped out from behind the curtain and took over command of this coordinated confrontation.

* * *

A/N: All the world is a stage, they say. Well, it seems that the morgue is one also. ;)

I do believe the next chapter will be a flashback to what proceeded this chapter. I was thinking that I could just flip the chapters, but then you would have had to wait even longer for an update, so...Now I just have to get to actually writing the next chapter and stop reading _Sherlock_ theories...very time consuming, but fascinating - check out the IOU/Grimm's Fairy Tales one if you get a chance. Loved it! But then had to watch The Fall again, which has me thinking I really need to watch them all again in order. Oh my. Sherlock as homework! Doesn't get better than that!

Special thanks to you guys who have stayed with this story so far. And welcome to the new followers of Coordinates. It always makes me so happy to find a new follower or favorite when I open my email!

Scarlett, The Yoshinator, Kathryne B and Bluebearsweetie...you guys are the best! Icecoatedsha, welcome and thanks for the kind review!


End file.
